Dance With My Father
by Galxychld
Summary: A reflection on the death of one of our explorers, and a decision...
1. Default Chapter

**Rating:** PG 

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of it (darn it!). It all belongs to Newline and Coote-Hayes. Just taking these characters and borrowing them for a while, and making sure to return them safe and sound where I found them. 

**Author's notes:** For anyone wondering what is taking so long with my other stories, this is partly why. I heard this wonderful Luthor Vandross song, and this story popped into my head. My muse refused to return to the other stuff until I wrote this, expounded on my ideas, and polished it. And yes, it's pretty angsty, so just in case, you were warned! In takes place in the future and features a character death. Please, please, PLEASE, read and review!! Especially review. J

**"Dance With My Father"**  
  


    Anna Jessica Roxton turned another page in the scarred, leather-bound book and continued reading. Her hazel-green eyes scanned the carefully printed words, committing every nuance of writing to memory. She had to make sure that she didn't overlook a single, even insignificant, detail, or this enterprise she was bound on would be an utter failure.

    She reached up, as was her habit, and found a tendril of hair that had escaped her braid. She twirled the dark curl around her finger, twisting and untwisting, every once in a while looking up to stare at the ceiling while she mulled over certain passages. 

    Just as she had reached about midway into the book, she heard the light footsteps that she knew belonged to her mother. She was startled. Marguerite was not supposed to be back from trading until later in the day! Anna quickly closed the book and shoved it between the cushion of her chair, before picking up her discarded blouse and the dangling needle and thread. She started to sew, making a little face. She might have her mother's skill with a needle, but she certainly had her father's impatience at the tediousness of the task. 

    Marguerite rounded the corner of the stairs and paused, watching Anna work. Her daughter's slender fingers fairly flew as she repaired the damaged article of clothing. However, the expression on her face told Marguerite that Anna would rather be doing just about anything other than sewing. She allowed a tiny smile to creep onto her face. She'd seen that expression countless times before. Anna was so much like Roxton…Her smile faded as that painful thought intruded. It was almost that day again…

    Anna raised her head and caught the look on her mother's face. Marguerite was never good around this time, even now, so many years later. She laid her sewing down and stood up, crossing the small distance to hug her mother. Marguerite returned the embrace, sighing as she noted that Anna was now as tall as she was. Where had the time gone?

    "Mother, are you all right?" Anna asked, pulling away to search her mother's eyes with her own. In spite of the few lines at the corners, Marguerite's silvery green eyes were as lovely as ever. Marguerite summoned up a perfunctory smile for her daughter and nodded.

    "I'm fine, love," she said. "It's just…it's almost that time again, you know? I'm feeling…unsettled."

    "I know, Mother. Uncle Ned says that he and Aunt Veronica are almost done. When are you leaving?"

    "We want to have the memorial in place just one day early. We'll leave tomorrow; it's only an hour's walk. Are you absolutely sure that you don't want to come?"

    Anna averted her eyes. "I'm sure, Mother. I want you three to have your own time there. I'm old enough to go on my own." While partly the truth, this wasn't the whole truth. Anna hated lying to her mother, but she knew perfectly well that Marguerite wouldn't let her try what she wanted to do. Convincing Uncle George to go along with it had been hard enough. And she needed her mother away before they started. She looked back at Marguerite.

    "I can't believe it's been so long already, Mother. Sometimes it feels like it was just yesterday."

    "Ten years already, Anna. Ten long years." Marguerite sighed and looked at her daughter. "Ten years…since your father died."

Back when I was a child, before life removed all the innocence  
My father would lift me high and dance with my mother and me and then  
Spin me around 'til I fell asleep  
Then up the stairs he would carry me  
And I knew for sure I was loved

    Anna nodded, and Marguerite reached out and touched her cheek before moving away in the direction of the balcony. Anna watched her go, and sat down again to let herself remember.

    She remembered times when the rain made it necessary to stay inside, and she would quickly get bored. So her father would set up the phonograph. As the music started, he would bow gravely to Anna, and she would curtsy back just as solemnly. Then he would run forward and scoop his daughter into his arms, twirling her around the floor to the music. She would shriek with laughter as he spun her, her head thrown back and her unruly curls streaming out behind her. 

    He taught her to waltz and to foxtrot, as well as a variety of other dances. When she had been very small, he would place her on his feet and they would dance together that way. She would smile up at him as he carefully moved around the floor. Even when she got older he would occasionally pick her up when the faster music played, and they would accompany their waltzes with the sound of their laughter.

    Their antics always drew Marguerite, who would pretend to scowl at them just before Roxton grabbed her around her slender waist and drew her into the dance with them. Anna had adored dancing with her parents, laughing and twirling until she would yawn and rest her head on her father's shoulder, with Marguerite's free hand warm on her back. She often fell asleep as they were dancing, and Roxton would gently carry her up the stairs and lay her in her bed, drawing her blanket carefully over her. His tender hand smoothing back her tangled curls and the gentle kiss he always dropped on her forehead made Anna's world safe and secure. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that her father and mother loved her. She was safe, and warm, and loved.

If I could get another chance, another walk, another dance with him  
I'd play a song that would never, ever end  
How I'd love, love, love  
To dance with my father again

    After Roxton's death, Anna would often sit by the phonograph and play the songs they danced to, over and over, until a few wore out. She would lay her head against the table leg and desperately pretend it was her father's shoulder. Marguerite would find her there, asleep against the table, with dried tear tracks on her face. Rather than disturb her daughter, Marguerite would bring down Anna's pillow and blanket and cover her. Even in her sleep Anna knew the difference between Marguerite's touch and the one that she would never feel again, and her heart broke. In her dreams she and Roxton danced and danced until all the songs they knew were done, then her father held her until the morning light cruelly woke her to another day without him.

When I and my mother would disagree  
To get my way, I would run from her to him  
He'd make me laugh just to comfort me  
Then finally make me do just what my mama said  
Later that night when I was asleep  
He left a dollar under my sheet  
Never dreamed that he would be gone from me

    Roxton had often said that Marguerite and Anna were exactly alike, temper-wise, which meant that the occupants of the tree house were treated to awesome displays of temper from both mother and daughter. Anna would sometimes disagree quite vocally with Marguerite's decisions for her, as much for pure stubbornness as for times when she felt another choice was the better one. If she particularly disagreed with Marguerite, Anna would run to her father and plead her case, well aware that she was Roxton's petted favorite. He would cuddle her in his arms and speak gently to her, sometimes amusing her with stories, sometimes causing her to giggle madly as he tickled her. 

    In the end, and Anna was never sure exactly _how_ he managed to do it, he always brought Anna around to Marguerite's point of view. He would point out that firstly, Marguerite was Anna's mother and loved her; secondly, Marguerite was only ever looking out for Anna's well being; and thirdly, it would be best for all concerned if she obeyed her mother. Anna could never find fault with his logic, or with his implied threat of punishment, and in the end, she did what her mother told her. 

    If the argument had been especially heated between mother and daughter, Roxton would make a peace offering. Sometimes it was a special breakfast for Anna, or the promise of a special outing; sometimes it was a treat left by her bedside table or a toy left on her pillow. Marguerite never begrudged Roxton's actions; she was well aware of what worked with her daughter, as well as the fact that Roxton did the same thing to her, with much the same results. She would only give him a look, which he would return with a sheepish shrug. 

    In spite of the constant awareness of the danger of the world surrounding them, Anna had never really allowed herself to think of Roxton dying. Her father was larger than life, strong, bold, warm, caring, and brave. And he loved Marguerite and Anna enough to make Anna believe that nothing would keep him away from them. 

    Anna abruptly stood and walked to the balcony. Little had changed in the great tree house since the arrival of the explorers. Additions had been built for the Roxton family and for the two Malone children, and Challenger had added to his lab (finally putting in a window), but the main room, kitchen, and balcony had been left alone. Anna reached out and leaned on the edge of the railing, gazing down into the jungle without really seeing it. She remembered that day so very vividly, that horrible day her world had crashed around her…  

    She had been playing in the yard at the base of the treehouse. She looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, while still managing to deftly keep her necklace away from Arthur's curious two-year-old hands. She swiftly pulled out the small crossbow her Aunt Finn had made her. It was most likely the hunting group, and the electric fence _was_ on, but it never hurt to be careful. She called to Malone and Finn, who were finishing tending to the garden.

    "Aunt Finn! Uncle Ned! I think they're back!" 

    She scrambled to her feet and waited, keeping her crossbow trained on the gate. She glimpsed her Uncle George, and turned her head to yell to the two adults, a smile on her face.

    "It's Uncle George! They're back a little early." 

    She turned back to see her Uncle George open the gate and walk through, and her smile abruptly faltered and froze on her face. Challenger and Veronica were carrying a litter. Their faces were drained and so very sad. Her heart started to pound furiously as she turned to her mother. Marguerite was holding Roxton's hand, but it was so still, so limp. Challenger and Veronica gently laid the litter down, and Marguerite released the hand she was holding and stood up. Anna stared with growing horror at the blood that liberally covered her mother's clothes, at the stillness that lay over her father, at the expressions on the faces of the three adults. The crossbow dropped from her suddenly nerveless fingers.

    "No," she whispered. Her hands flew to her mouth as her eyes began to burn with tears. She started to take small, halting steps towards Roxton, her hand outstretched.

    "No, no, no, no, NO!" The whispers grew gradually louder, until she shrieked the last word and started to run to the form on the ground. 

    Anna's shriek brought Finn and Malone running. Finn skidded to a halt, taking in the situation, and quickly picked up little Arthur. Malone took one look at the scene before him. Veronica was standing, her hands fisted at her side, tears rolling silently down her cheeks. Challenger held his loose fist at his mouth, his brow furrowed. And Marguerite was reaching out for her daughter. Malone stared at the body of his best friend, and felt a great weight settle in his chest. Roxton couldn't be dead. He couldn't. That vibrant life could not be snuffed out, not now! Malone glanced over and saw that Finn was holding his son, then he swiftly walked over to his wife and pulled Veronica to him.

    Marguerite caught Anna just before she reached her father. 

    "DADDY! DADDY!!" Anna screamed. She struggled against Marguerite's grip, twisting and pulling in her mother's arms. 

    "NO! Let me go! I have to go see him! DAADDYYY!!" 

    She pummeled Marguerite with her fists. Even at eight years old she was strong. Her blows would leave bruises on her mother, and the hands she raked down Marguerite's arms left red welts on the fair flesh. She screamed as the tears poured down her cheeks, screamed even as Marguerite slowly brought her under control. She screamed for her father until her throat was raw and only whimpers escaped her lips. She collapsed to the ground, bringing Marguerite down with her. 

    "Daddy," she cried, one arm still reaching for the man now forever out of her grasp. Suddenly she threw her arms around her mother and held on for dear life, her slender body shaking with sobs. 

    Veronica could not stand this. She turned her head into Malone's shoulder as she cried. Her husband held her, his own tears making a pathway down his face. George Challenger stood, both hands over his face now, his shoulders bowed with immense grief. Finn closed her eyes briefly and stroked Arthur's fine blond hair before carrying him over to his parents. 

    Marguerite gently rocked her daughter in her arms. She laid her head on Anna's, rubbing the girl's back and making soothing noises. Hers was not the moment to grieve. She'd had that all the way back to the treehouse. Now, it was time to be there as Anna cried for her father. Even so, a few errant tears slipped from her eyes and lost themselves in Anna's tumbled curls. 

    "Daddy, oh, Daddy," Anna moaned, and clutched Marguerite even more tightly to her. 

                             *            *            *               *             *              *

    Anna shook herself out of her reverie, taking a deep breath to hold back the tears she could feel hovering on the surface. She could never think of that moment without pain. She rubbed her arms at the sudden chill that had nothing to do with the temperature, and headed back inside. After making sure that Marguerite was nowhere in sight, she surreptitiously pulled the book from its hiding place and continued reading. 

If I could steal one final glance, one final step, one final dance with him  
I'd play a song that would never, ever end  
'Cause I'd love, love, love  
To dance with my father again

    Had her mother seen the cover of the book, she would have had a good inkling of why Anna was reading it. The book was an account of Challenger's experiment with the transporter, the experiment that had resulted in the arrival of Finn. Challenger had not only detailed all of his observations of the phenomena, but his theories as well. Anna was doing her best to imprint every scrap of information into her head, because she was trying to do the impossible. Challenger had argued that it was a crazy notion, a foolish idea that she should not even dare to think of. He begged Anna to consider her mother and the rest of their tree house family, and tried his best to point out that it hadn't worked as he'd thought anyway. Anna's streak of stubbornness had persevered, and Challenger had grudgingly agreed to help her. She knew he was only concerned, but he had never listened at night to Marguerite, either. He had never heard the deep, muffled sobs that had torn at Anna's heart as Marguerite tried to conceal her pain, wasn't aware of just how much of the night Marguerite spent pacing, or muttering, or simply sitting and staring at nothing, willing the nightmares and loneliness away. Anna remembered one particular time four years after her father'death…

Sometimes I'd listen outside her door  
And I'd hear how my mother cried for him  
I pray for her even more than me  
I pray for her even more than me

    They'd just come back from a frustrating trading trip, where even Marguerite's legendary ability to make a deal had not secured them all of the supplies they had needed. The stress of the day had only worsened when a hunting pair of raptors had crossed their path, and after they had been killed, Ned had thoughtlessly said, "That was close! Roxton would've-"

    He had broken off his words, never finishing his thought, after he'd caught a glimpse of how white Marguerite's face had gone. He had apologized profusely for his slip of the tongue, but the stiff line of Marguerite's back and the blistering pace she had set for home spoke volumes about her pain. Upon reaching the main room of the tree house, Marguerite had excused herself to her room and slammed the door shut.

    Anna had crept close to the closed door and placed her ear against it. She could hear Marguerite slam around a few things, venting her frustration, before all sound stopped for a moment. Then the deep sobs had started. Anna had listened, her brow furrowed in pain as she listened to her mother weep. There was only one thing that made Marguerite cry that hard. Anna knew perfectly well that Marguerite was crying for her loss, for her love, for the life that had been shattered. She was crying for Roxton. 

    After an interminable time, the sobbing stopped, and Anna heard water splash in the basin. Marguerite was washing her face, trying to hide the evidence of her grief. Anna's mouth tightened. Her mother was closing herself off, and everyone was worried. Anna was determined to put a stop to it. She waited by the door until Marguerite opened it. 

    Marguerite saw Anna and stopped in surprise and discomfort. From the expression on Anna's face, she had heard some of the crying. Marguerite ducked her head and tried to sidle past her daughter, but Anna was having none of that.

    She forced Marguerite to stop. Even though she tried to hide it, Anna could see the fresh tear tracks on her face.

    "Mother, please," she said. "You never talk about it. Never. I need to know about Daddy. I need to know-"

    "How he died?" snapped Marguerite. It had been a long, trying day, and being only a few days away from the anniversary of Roxton's death put Marguerite's hackles up. "You know the _how_, Anna, would you like to hear the intimate details?" She pushed on, ignoring the shocked look on her daughter's face at her tone.

    "Do you want to know what he looked like when that arrow pierced his chest, Anna? How it threw him back and he didn't even have time to yell in shock? Do you want to know how I felt when I saw the blood pouring out of the wound, bright frothy blood that meant the arrow had punctured his lung? Do you want to know how fast I got to him, how hard I held my hand over his chest to try and stop the bleeding? Do you want to know how white he'd gone?" 

    Anna stared at her mother with wide, horrified eyes, tears rolling down her face. This wasn't what she had meant to do by stopping her mother in the hallway. Marguerite had her by the arms in a grip of steel, and even if she wanted to, Anna didn't have the power to move. Marguerite continued, her haunted eyes locked on a spot inches to the side of Anna's face, her own tears falling unheeded on her cheeks.

    "Do you want to hear how he still tried to soothe me, even though he knew he was dying? Do you want to hear how I begged with him, pleaded with him to stay, not to leave, to fight and stay with us? Do you want to hear how I told him I loved him, over and over and over until I couldn't speak for sobbing? Do you want to know that it took both Veronica and George to pull me away from him? Do you want to know how cold his hand was-"

    "NO!" Anna cried out in a choked voice. The tears poured down her face, and she dropped her head and began to cry in earnest.

    Marguerite was shaken out of her monologue by the cry from her daughter. She looked down at Anna, at the dark head bowed in grief and tears, at the slender shoulders in her hands, shoulders that shook with sobs. Marguerite drew in a breath, sickened at what she had been doing to Anna. 

    "Oh, God, Anna," she cried. "Oh, dear God." 

    She released Anna's arms and pulled her daughter close, wrapping her arms around Anna and carefully stroking her hair.

    "Oh, my baby girl, I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry. I didn't mean to do that." She kissed Anna's head and continued smoothing her hair.

    Anna held her mother tightly, her heart aching inside. Not for herself, but for the bone-deep, soul-shattering heartbreak and loss she could see in her mother's eyes, at the raw pain and grief that still laced her mother's voice. She missed her father, but she knew it was nothing like how much her mother missed him. She closed her eyes and prayed to God that one day her mother might feel whole again. 

I know I'm praying for much too much  
But could you send back the only man she loved  
I know you don't do it usually  
But dear Lord she's dying  
To dance with my father again

    Anna read until the sunset colored the clouds outside in red and gold glory. She closed the book and took a deep breath. She was as ready as she would ever be. All that was left was to pack up the necessary supplies and get a night's rest before she and Challenger set out the next day. Of course, they would have to be very careful and avoid the other inhabitants of the tree house. Luckily for Anna's peace of mind, her Uncle Ned and Aunt Veronica had elected to take Arthur and Abigail with them to visit Roxton's grave. Finn, of course, had gone back to the future a few years ago; otherwise her curiosity might have been Anna's undoing.

    After years of hearing her mother grieve for her father, two things had happened to start Anna upon her present course. The first had been the discovery of the journal of Challenger's. The information contained in its pages had started her thinking. The second event had been the maturing of certain powers related to being the daughter of a Chosen One. Though most of her abilities were far weaker than Marguerite's, Anna did have one thing that Marguerite did not. She could, to some extent, manipulate reality around her. It was very small, but it might be enough for what she wanted to do. 

    She had carefully thought through her idea, weighing all the facts and possible solutions, before presenting it to her Uncle George. Anna knew that he appreciated a sound argument, even for something as far-fetched as what she was proposing. 

    After an hour spent outlining everything she had thought of and what she planned to do, a startled Challenger had interrupted her.

    "Anna, are you crazy?" he had exclaimed. "You can't be seriously thinking what I think you're thinking! It'll never work. There's too much uncertainty, and we aren't sure of the exact extent of the phenomena. We can't be sure that the actions in the past have a bearing on the present, and-"

    "Uncle George, I'm going to do it. With or without your help. I just had hoped that you would try to make sure it does work. But I can't stand Mother's pain anymore. I can't stand anyone's pain anymore. I think it will work. I'm sure I can make it work. One thing is certain, Uncle George. I'm going to go back and change things. I'm going to bring my father back to my mother."

    "Anna," Challenger had said, grasping the young woman's hands and holding them tightly, "this isn't right. It's not the order of things. It could fail miserably. And child, I'm not about to let you do this!"

    Anna had wrenched her hands away and said in a tight voice, "Uncle George, I'm not going to think that's it's going to fail. It will not. I won't let it. And you can't do anything. I'm not a child anymore, Uncle George. I haven't been a child for ten years. Now will you help me or not?"

    Her eyes dared him to consider the impossible being made real. Challenger had understood that Anna was too determined and stubborn to be derailed, and if he went to Marguerite, not only would Anna despise him, she would probably find a way to do it anyway, without his guidance. He sighed and accepted the inevitable. 

    They had planned and mapped out every detail for a few weeks. Now, for better or worse, they were ready.

    The next morning Anna waited anxiously for Marguerite and the rest of the group to get going. According to Challenger, there was an optimum time to attempt going back, and if the group didn't leave soon, Anna and Challenger would not make it to the cave in time. She watched Marguerite pack her knapsack and check the gun in its holster, and watched Malone make sure his children were ready. Veronica finished tying the cloth around the memorial they had made. 

    It was really quite lovely, Anna thought. Veronica had painstakingly carved their likenesses into a carefully treated slab of wood and had coated it with a substance that Challenger had come up with that resembled thin plaster. They were all smiling out at whomever would see the monument, even Abigail, who had been born after Roxton's death. They planned to put the sculpture at the head of Roxton's grave.

    Finally they were all ready. The Malone family, with the exception of Veronica, went down in the elevator. Marguerite turned to Anna and hugged her tightly. 

    "I'll say hello to your father for you," she whispered into her daughter's ear. "I'll make sure he knows you're coming by later."

    "Thank you," Anna said softly. Wishing she could have told her mother what she planned to do, she instead opted to hug her very tightly. Marguerite sensed something and drew back to gaze into Anna's eyes. Anna just smiled. Marguerite's eyes narrowed slightly. She knew that smile. Anna wasn't telling her something. However, they did need to go, so Marguerite vowed to get the truth out of her daughter as soon as they got back. She and Veronica each picked up one corner of the bundled sculpture and headed into the elevator. 

    Anna rushed to the window and watched Marguerite and Veronica lead the group away. When she was sure that they were gone, she turned to Challenger and raised one eyebrow. He sighed and went to retrieve their packs from his room. Anna turned to the painting of her father that hung in the main room, her eyes searching his features. When Challenger returned, she took her pack and left the note she had written on the table. Whether she was successful or not, the note would explain everything. She only hoped her mother wouldn't be too furious with her.

    She and Challenger rode the elevator down in silence and headed out. Anna was wearing a hat and her favorite blue blouse, along with a pair of pants. She knew her physical resemblance to her mother was strong, and in case she was seen in the past, she wanted anyone seeing her to think it was Marguerite. Challenger shook his head as Anna scouted ahead. From the back, with the hat and the dark curls tumbling nearly to her waist, Challenger could almost believe that he was walking with Marguerite herself. Of course, he thought wryly, Marguerite would be complaining much more about the trail than Anna was.

    When they finally reached the entrance to the cave, Challenger broke the silence. 

    "Anna, are you absolutely sure about this? We can still turn around and go back."

    "I'm sure, Uncle George. I'm as sure about doing this as anything in my life. Please, don't worry. It will be fine, really it will." She stepped closer to him and smiled up at him, then turned and disappeared into the cave. Challenger sighed and cast his eyes heavenwards.

    "Dear Lord," he said softly, "keep her safe. Because if something happens to her, there's no force on earth or in heaven that will keep me safe from Marguerite."

    With that, he shifted his own pack and, taking a deep breath, headed in the cave after Anna.

    They set up the equipment quickly and efficiently, making minor adjustments here and there according to Challenger's journal and their own notes. Finally they were finished. They stepped back and reviewed their handiwork. It was ready.

    Anna checked the gun at her hip, making sure that it was fully loaded, and then shrugged off her pack. She and Challenger had agreed that the less she took with her the better. That was the reason for the intense perusal of Challenger's journal, as well as the hours they had spent going over pertinent facts and what Anna's course of action would be. Everything she needed she would have to have in her head. She watched the play of light for a moment, then turned and hugged Challenger.

    Challenger held her to him tightly, resting his chin on her hair. He loved this girl as much as if she was his own, and he was deathly afraid that something would happen to her on this, to his mind, foolhardy endeavor. He knew that Anna was a highly intelligent girl with great motivation, and he hoped that those two things would be enough. He pulled away and put his hands on her shoulders.

    "You be careful, young lady, and make sure that you don't do anything foolish!" he said sternly. His expression softened and he gazed almost pleadingly at the daughter of one of his dearest friends. "Come back to us, Anna, please."

    Anna smiled and kissed his cheek. "I will, Uncle George, I will. Don't worry. I'll make this work."

    With that, Anna picked up her hat and placed it firmly on her head. She stood and concentrated her power on making sure that the portal would take her where _she_ wanted to go, and not where _it_ wanted to go. In her mind's eye she pictured the river where the attack had taken place, exactly as it had been those ten years ago. She concentrated until she thought she saw a faint image in the light. This was it! She took a deep breath.

    "I'm coming, Daddy. I'm coming to bring you home."

    With that, Anna let out her breath in a rush and stepped forward into the light.

  Every night I fall asleep and this is all I ever dream

The End (for now?)


	2. Part II

Part II 

    Anna stumbled out of the light and threw her arms out, frantically trying to find her bearings. The trip had made her terribly dizzy. She didn't remember reading about Challenger being this dizzy! She thought that perhaps trying to force the portal to go where and when _she_ wanted had brought on this spell. She dropped to her knees and took several deep breaths until her head cleared.

    She finally lifted her head and took a look around. The hazel eyes scanned the area, and then narrowed. Wait a minute! She looked up to find the position of the sun, and scowled. She had planned to be at the campsite several hours ahead of when the group arrived, and see what she could do to set up some kind of warning system for when the attack came. From what Challenger had told her, they had set up camp and then retired for the night, and the attack had come in the early dawn. But from what she could see, it was not nearly noon, as she had wanted, but mid-afternoon.

    "Oh, bloody _hell_," she ground out, looking around her. Her time had effectively been cut in half. She wasn't sure if she would be able to set up much in the time she had left. Uncle George apparently had had a point about things not going as one planned. She did a quick check of her gun. Good. It was still on her hip, and still fully loaded. She sighed. She would have to make do. There was no way that she was going to allow her father to be killed this time. 

    She reached down to snatch up her hat, which had fallen off when she stumbled. She put it on and tugged it down over her hair. Taking a deep breath, she looked around the small clearing near the river, trying to find places where she could set small traps that could warn the hunting group before the actual attack came. She identified everything that she could use, and with another scowling glance at the afternoon sun, she got to work. 

    She had been working steadily for about an hour, the heat of the jungle and her own exertions making her hair damp with sweat. She impatiently pushed a loose curl off her face and examined her work. She had started close to the campsite, leaving a small space free of warning signals. She remembered that Uncle George had told her the specific way that they had come, so to keep them in the dark, she had left that way unblocked. Small, strong vines were twined around several branches in such a way as to spring free and slap against a tree with the slightest touch. Parts of the jungle floor had been scooped out to make shallow depressions that Anna had filled with leaves. In the dark of the early morning, the attackers should miss seeing them and stumble over them, which should make enough noise to alert whoever would be on watch. Anna had also placed a tiny pile of gunpowder close to the edge of the clearing. If the attackers somehow managed to evade the traps she would put further back, then she would be watching to spark the pile into a tiny explosion. 

    She sat back on her heels and thought for a moment. The motives behind the attack were still not quite understood. Veronica had recognized the attackers as part of one of the smaller tribes that dotted the Plateau, but when they had confronted the tribe, they had learned that several members had broken off and left the main tribe. The leaders of the tribe had been sorrowful about the actions of their rogue members, but even to Anna's own present day there'd been no sign of the attackers. 

    She pushed herself up and moved back a little. Time to start the second set of warning signals. She'd started close to the campsite so that if she was not done by the time the hunting group came along, at least she would not be so close to the keen ears of her father or Aunt Veronica. 

    Just as she finished the second little trap, she heard a sound. She froze. There! She heard it again, and she whirled around, trying to locate the sound. The sun was heading down, and the jungle was starting to be thick with shadows. She cocked her head and closed her eyes, listening. 

    Suddenly her eyes popped open in disbelief. It couldn't be! It just couldn't be! Heart pounding in her ears, Anna hurried over to the edge of the small slope and looked down. The campsite was at the top of a tiny hill, which afforded her a good glimpse of the jungle. Her eyes widened in horror as they confirmed what her ears had picked up. The hunting group was walking towards her!

    They were early! Uncle George had said specifically that they had not arrived at the campsite until after dark. She was not ready. Her traps were not ready. How could he have been so mistaken? She groaned as the answer became painfully obvious. 

    Challenger was lagging behind the group. She could see him on his knees perhaps twenty feet behind Veronica. He was sorting or cataloguing something, mumbling to himself as Veronica looked on in amusement. This was why he said they'd arrived after dark! Veronica had stayed with him until he was done, and then they'd joined Roxton and Marguerite at the campsite. 

    She glanced away from Challenger and focused on the couple making their way up the foot of the hill. Her heart gave a painful thump, and Anna felt her insides twist. Roxton! He was alive and well, laughing as he talked with Marguerite, who was rolling her eyes at something he'd said. Anna feasted her eyes on the man that she hadn't seen for ten long, lonely years. She took in every detail, from the dusty hat to the muddy boots, and the laughter she could hear. Hot tears suddenly crowded her eyes. That laughter; _his_ laughter. No one laughed like her father, and the familiar sound, so achingly absent these past years, struck her like a fist. She clapped a hand over her mouth before any of the cries she could feel in her throat broke free. The thing that Challenger had impressed on her very strongly was that the explorers should NOT see her. He didn't know what repercussions might result from that. 

    She shook her head, determined to get herself under control. She backed away carefully, trying to make sure that she left as little a trail as possible. Rushing away would be a sure clue to Veronica or Roxton, and even Marguerite, that someone was there. She reached the edge of the clearing and halted. A dilemma was waiting for her. She had left tracks in the middle of the campsite! If she wanted to get into the jungle and be well hidden, she would have to leave the tracks. That was a very bad idea. However, if she erased the tracks, she would only have enough time to try and hide in the trees edging the river, which would put her right next to the campsite. 

    "Oh, _bloody_ hell," she whispered in frustration, hesitating only for a few seconds before taking the lesser of two evils and smoothing away her tracks. Working with frantic but controlled haste, she made the clearing look as natural as possible. Just as she tossed the last handful of leaves onto the ground, she heard her mother's acerbic tones, answered soothingly by the deeper rumble of her father's voice. Heart thudding in her chest, she backed up and dove without a sound into the trees. 

**To be continued…**

Author's note: Exciting things await in the next chapter! Will Anna be able to keep herself hidden? Will she get face-to-face with her parents? And most importantly, will she be able to save her father? Stay tuned for chapter 3!


	3. Part III

Anna took several deep breaths to calm herself, and watched warily as Roxton and Marguerite set up camp. She was careful to keep quiet, but her eyes hungrily took in every movement her father made. She'd forgotten small details, such as the efficient way he started a fire, or the way he playfully bantered with Marguerite, or the way his eyebrow raised _just_ so when Marguerite got in a particularly good dig. Anna branded every small thing into her mind, just in case. Darkness fell just as Veronica dragged a protesting Challenger into the clearing.

"But Veronica, there were still many things to document about that plant, and-"

"Yes, yes, Challenger, of course, but that plant will still be there in the morning, and I'm not about to be out in a unfamiliar field at night without a campfire." Veronica rolled her eyes comically at Marguerite, who stifled a giggle as the blond led Challenger to the opposite side of the fire. They waited as the meat and vegetables roasting over the fire slowly browned. Finally Veronica pulled the meal off the fire and split it among the four.

"Honestly, Marguerite, how you can make such tasty meals on the trail and such disasters at home is a mystery to me," Challenger commented as he lifted another piece of meat to his mouth.

Marguerite made a face. "It's not that hard to shove a stick through meat or sprinkle herbs on a few vegetables, George, especially since Veronica made up those seasoning packets for me. Besides, the trail gives you a healthy appetite, and you never expect meals of any complexity like you do at home."

In the darkness, Anna grinned. It was true. Marguerite was a perfectly adequate cook, as long as they were not at home. Even ten years after this time had not much improved the brunette's culinary skills. Anna sighed softly and took a practiced look at the night sky. She scowled. It was starting to get late, and she still had a few traps to set up outside the clearing.

She moved quietly around the edge of the campsite, setting her small traps here and there. She wasn't sure if it was the unfamiliarity of the place, or her own nerves, or a combination of the two, but she could hear the small sounds she was making. Gritting her teeth, she stopped for the fourth time as she disturbed yet another patch of undergrowth, and Veronica and Roxton again swiveled towards the sound. It was uncanny how well they could hone in on her movements.

"I'm sure I heard another sound, John," Veronica said, her voice drifting to Anna. "There's something out there."

"It's probably just an animal, Veronica. If it hasn't shown itself yet, then most likely it's not going to come this close to a fire."

Anna held back a sigh. She would love to come close to the campfire. Jungle it might be, but the temperature had dropped, and she was also rather hungry. She waited until Veronica assented to Roxton's opinion, and with a grumble settled back down. Anna continued even more carefully, finally finishing with yet another tiny pile of gunpowder a little further into the jungle. She sighed in relief and crept closer to the camp, settling down in hollow created by a small slope of the ground. A smallish log provided some cover from prying eyes around the campfire. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, only to have them fly open as she heard two people settle down against the log. To her dismay, she recognized Marguerite's light lavender scent, and knew that she had managed to pick the one spot around the clearing where her parents would choose to spend the night. She clenched her fists in frustration. _Nothing_ was going right.

Anna crouched down against the base of the log, acutely aware of how close she was to her parents, and the even more urgent need for silence. She concentrated on keeping herself still and her breathing slow and soft. Her parents were talking, their soft murmurs a background hum, until a tone in Roxton's voice brought Anna to full attention.

"How do you feel?" he was asking Marguerite. Anna recognized the loving concern as what had caught her ear. Roxton reached up and gently caressed Marguerite's cheek. For an instant she leaned into his touch, before making a little face and gently swatting him away.

"How would you feel?" she said tartly, raising one eyebrow. "After all, this is as much your fault as mine." Anna risked a peek and caught a flash of chagrin on her father's face. Marguerite caught it as well, because her voice abruptly softened.

"Honestly, John, I'm fine," she said. "Just a little tired."

"And nauseous," her husband added. "I don't think it was like this with Anna."

Marguerite shrugged. "She didn't cause me much fuss. This one obviously takes after you."

Roxton grinned. "Funny. Don't you think we should tell the others soon? I know that Veronica suspects it already."

Marguerite shook her head. "Just a little while more. I want to have this just to us for a little bit more. I'm only about a month and a half now. And we should tell Anna first. She's been the princess of the castle for so long, I want to make sure she'll be all right with it."

Roxton reached out and gently drew Marguerite to him. "She'll be fine, love. I'm sure she'll be just as excited as we are." Marguerite's only response was a contented sigh as she leaned against Roxton's warmth.

Anna sat back with a fist pressed to her mouth. Oh God, oh dear God. If that talk meant what she thought it meant, then it meant that her mother was pregnant. Marguerite was pregnant? Marguerite was PREGNANT? Anna's thoughts whirled around her head. She didn't have any siblings! There was only her and her "cousins," twelve-year old Arthur and nine-year-old Abigail. She was her mother's only child. Her eyes widened as a memory crept back to her…

It had been about two weeks after her father's death. Anna had been sitting in her room, surrounded by the gifts her father had given her over the years, when she had heard a noise. She immediately identified her mother's voice. Marguerite was crying. And Anna heard another voice. It was Aunt Veronica. She crept out of her room and made her way over to her mother's room.

She crouched on the stairs leading to her parents' room and peered inside. Marguerite was sitting on the bed, crying, and Aunt Veronica had her arms wrapped tightly around her. Anna listened.

"Shh, Marguerite. It wasn't your fault. There was nothing that could've been done. It just happened."

Marguerite shook her head. When she spoke, the anguish in her voice speared Anna where she sat.

"I wasn't thinking, Veronica. I wasn't thinking at all. If I'd taken more care…" The last words dissolved into another sob. Veronica gently smoothed Marguerite's hair.

"Marguerite, it WASN'T YOUR FAULT. And you still have Anna. Don't forget that."

Marguerite nodded, but her crying didn't abate. So Anna had crept back down to her room and sat there, holding the stuffed cat her mother had made her, and thought of her father.

Looking back, Anna realized that what she had thought was all wrong. She had thought that Marguerite was blaming herself for Roxton's death, and that Veronica was reminding her that she still had part of her family. But now, if this revelation was true, there was another explanation. She bowed her head as the truth became blindingly clear.

Marguerite had been pregnant, but she had miscarried the baby. Anna remembered that one of Marguerite's hands had been resting on her abdomen, a gesture that the young Anna had dismissed. Marguerite was blaming herself for the loss of the baby, saying that her lack of care for herself had hurt the baby. And Veronica had been reminding her that she still had one of her children, not just that she still had a daughter to look after. Anna put her hands over her face and rocked silently in grief.

The attack that she had come here to prevent had cost not one life, as she'd thought, but two lives. Her father, and the child who'd existed for just a moment in time. She wondered if the baby would have been more like Marguerite or Roxton. She felt a spurt of anger at the people who had cost her a sibling, and her mother another child. She also felt an increased admiration for her mother, who had not let this burden of grief pass to Anna herself. She clenched her fists and blinked back the tears. She would not allow these animals to take away her father and her baby sister or brother. No matter what, this would _not_ happen again.

She knew that she needed to move away from her hiding place. She needed to be out a little more into the jungle to try and head off the attackers and get some sort of warning out to the group. She cautiously, carefully, rose and started to creep away from the camp. Again her luck failed her, and the snap of a twig under her boot was sharp as a gunshot, in the quiet jungle. Her heart thudding in her chest, she froze.

At the campsite, both Roxton and Veronica stood up as the sound faded, heads turning to find the source of it. Their trained eyes scanned the dark jungle, looking for anything out of place.

"_Now_ do you believe me?" Veronica hissed, reaching behind her to smoothly draw out her hunting knives.

Roxton grimaced back at her and pointed to their supplies.

"Bring the lantern over," he said quietly, gesturing for Marguerite to stay down. She stared up at him, showing him the pistol she'd drawn out, and he shook his head. They didn't know quite what the problem was, and he didn't want to make it worse by starting off shooting. Veronica brought the lit lantern over and handed it to Roxton, who took it in one hand and lifted it high to scan the jungle near the edge of the camp. His other hand gripped the rifle that had lain unseen at his feet.

Anna watched in desperation as Roxton slowly moved the lantern. The light was coming closer and closer. She felt the nervous sweat slip down her face, fighting to keep herself still. The light inched nearer, and nearer still. Finally it started to touch the edge of her sleeve, and she panicked. She took off into the jungle.

Roxton saw the movement, and his eyes widened. He yelled at the others to stay put but to stay alert, and then ran after the fleeing figure. He held the lantern high, and it miraculously did little to hamper his speed. He chased the elusive form for nearly a quarter mile before he got close enough to see that he was chasing a female. He called for her to stop. She faltered briefly at his words, but tried to run again. He was having none of that!

"Stop!" Roxton yelled again, cocking his rifle to emphasis his words.

The woman stopped abruptly, her back stiff and radiating a tension that Roxton found somewhat odd, under the circumstances. Sure, she had been running away from the campsite, and Lord knows what she had been doing there in the first place, but his trained eyes detected something more than that. She was poised as if to run the instant his concentration shifted, her hands fisted at her sides and clenched so hard that he could see the whiteness of her knuckles even in the gloom of the evening.

"All right now, let's have a look at you, and see if you can explain to me what you were doing skulking around the bushes."

She didn't turn around, and that unusual tension seemed to notch itself even higher.

"Turn around," he said, a bit more loudly.

"No."

The word was delivered softly, but steel edged her tone. Roxton's eyebrows drew together. That voice reminded him of someone…He raised the small lantern higher and again told her to turn around.

"Please," she said, a hint of desperation entering her voice, "please don't make me do this."

"Now!" he barked, though her words had raised an unaccountable uneasiness in him.

She stiffened even further, but slowly she turned to face him. The woman-no, rather, more girl, really-met his eyes with bravado, but it only lasted a few seconds before it broke.

Roxton, now getting his first good look at the girl, simply gaped. She resembled Marguerite so strongly that, for a moment, Roxton wondered if the Plateau's mysterious time ripples had struck again and brought Marguerite's younger self forward. Then he took a closer look at the girl.

There was a difference from Marguerite in the line of the girl's patrician nose and in the curve of her jaw, and there were her eyes. Even with only the light of the moon and the lantern to see by, Roxton noticed that they were not Marguerite's eyes. Instead of being a bewitchingly silvery green, they were a little stormier, a deeper hazel green. In fact, they looked uncannily like his. Very much…like…his. His jaw dropped.

"A-a-anna?" he stuttered in shock, feeling very much like he had been pole axed. His rifle dropped from his lax fingers. "Anna, is that you?"

She didn't say a word, but those eyes filled with tears. Roxton took a few steps forward, until he was right in front of the girl. Still she said nothing, only stared up at him.

"Anna?" he asked again, reaching up to see if she was really real. The instant his fingers touched her cheek, her control broke.

"Daddy!" she wailed, and the next thing Roxton knew, she was in his arms, crying and trembling so badly that Roxton himself was shaking. He gently stroked her hair, making soothing noises. He was stunned. It seemed to be Anna. But _his _Anna was an eight-year-old child. _This_ Anna was an adult. How and _why_ was she here? He waited, holding her, until her sobs tapered off.

He drew back and looked at her. She raised her eyes to his, and he saw that they were still swimming in tears. He shook his head.

"How-how can you be Anna? My daughter is eight! My daughter is home with Finn and Ned!"

"Yes, and Arthur, the boy not the bug," Anna retorted, her voice still choked with tears. She was on edge, and her words slipped out without her meaning them to. It had all been too much for even her control.

Roxton raised an eyebrow. "You could have seen that. You could have been watching us for a while, could have followed us from the treehouse."

"And you not notice! Or Aunt Veronica? You two notice if there's a leaf out of place! How could you not notice if I'd been behind you?"

"I've seen too many odd things on this Plateau to just accept this," Roxton said. She was right, there was no way both he _and_ Veronica could have missed this girl trailing them, but…He frowned. "I saw a double of Marguerite once that-"

"You danced with me," Anna broke in softly. "You would play the gramophone and dance with me. Just me, and then Mother if she decided to join us. You would hold me between you and then you'd carry me up and tuck me in. But you always, always danced with me." A tear slipped down her cheek.

Roxton stared at her, trying to make sense of her words. They had the ring of truth in them, and he knew perfectly well that she was describing something personal between himself and his little girl. Her gaze didn't waver from his, though the tears continued to slide gently down her flushed cheeks. Could it be? He'd certainly experienced stranger things on the Plateau…

Again he reached out and touched her cheek. She trembled at the contact.

"Snow White was…"

She swallowed. "Silly. She should've recognized the witch after two attempts on her life. The little mermaid was braver. She loved better."

Roxton closed his eyes briefly. Anna had come up with that opinion shortly after hearing the two fairy tales, and had never wavered. He opened his eyes.

"Anna," he whispered, pulling her into his arms. This time she didn't sob, but she trembled no less than before. He gently patted her back, allowing her a few moments to compose herself. Roxton marveled at the bravery he knew she had to have to come back to this time. And, by God, his girl was beautiful! He allowed that moment of parental pride before his mind turned to more serious thoughts. How had she gotten here? And most important, what would make her risk her life jumping through time? He pulled back and gripped her shoulders.

"Anna, what are you doing here? How did you get here? Why did you risk yourself to come?"

She stared at him for a long moment, considering her words. Finally she decided to tell the plain truth.

"You died when I was eight," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "You left me when I was only eight years old! I spent the next ten years wishing on every birthday and on every shooting star that you'd come back. I missed you so much. Everyone missed you, especially Mother. I came back, because if I can't find a way to stop it, you will die tomorrow morning, at dawn."

Roxton gulped a breath. He died? He would die? He'd leave his wife, his daughter, the child he and Marguerite had yet to meet…no! But that would explain why Anna had come back, why she would take such a risk. He knew that if he lost Marguerite or Anna, he would move heaven and earth to find a way to save them. Yet his brow furrowed.

"You're eighteen then? Still so young."

Anna shook her head. "No. I stopped being young the day you died."

He gently ran his hand over her hair. She sighed.

"I had to come back. I had to save you. Uncle George went to the future and brought back Aunt Finn. Once I was sure that I could affect it, I came back here, to this time, this moment."

Roxton shook his head. "I don't know, Anna. Perhaps it was meant to be. I've cheated death so many times, both here and in my life before, that if I really did die, then maybe I was supposed to die. And what if you save me here and I die a few days later in another accident?"

"No!" she said fiercely, the tears in her eyes erased by the anger that suddenly blazed in them. "You were not meant to die at this time. I don't believe that. And it doesn't matter, Daddy, I must save you now. _This_ time is what I know already happened. Besides, if I don't try and change the past, then why bother with Aunt Finn? Why try and help her change her future? If you think the future is just meant to be, then you might as well send her back immediately."

"But her future affects the whole world, Anna."

"What if yours does too? What if you're just as instrumental, if not yourself, then for what you give to me or pass on to someone else?"

Roxton chewed on his lip. She was convincing, certainly, but he still felt uneasy about her interference in something that, in spite of her convictions, he was sure would only affect their small group. Anna saw his indecision, and threw in her trump card.

"In my future, I'm all my mother has. I heard you at the camp; I know that Mother is pregnant. But I have no siblings. It's just me. You died, and Mother was so devastated that she lost the baby. I never even knew she was expecting. If I can't keep you alive, then I lose a father and a brother or sister, and Mother loses her husband and a child. I can't let that happen, Daddy, I _won't_. We need you too much."

Roxton drew his hand over his mouth. Marguerite lost the baby? His death sent his brave wife into that kind of grief? He let go of Anna and pushed his fingers through his hair. If he didn't listen to her, then he could very well be consigning his unborn child to death. And Anna…looking into her eyes, he saw a young woman who was far older than her years. What had she said, that she stopped being young the day he died? He made a decision. It was one thing to accept that he would die; it was quite another to know that his death would rob Anna of her childhood and Marguerite of their baby. He nodded.

"Tell me."

_So what happens in Chapter 4? Will Anna be able to save her father? Will it all be in vain? Keep watch and find out!_


	4. Part IV

Anna let out the breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding. She had been worried that he might try and be noble and "face his destiny" or whatever rot it was that he sometimes went on about. She squared her shoulders and began.

"As much as I can piece together from what everyone told me, the attack came about dawn. The sun was just starting to creep over the mountains when they came. Many men, about fourteen or fifteen, Aunt Veronica said. They were painted with blue and yellow dye, and they all had black tattoos on their faces. They came out of the jungle, screaming. Some had bows, but most had knives. You were unprepared. They'd been quiet. You all managed to shoot a few, but then…"

She took a deep breath, and Roxton knew in his gut that she was going to tell him of his death. He waited as she gathered her thoughts.

"In the melee, no one saw the one archer. He stopped no more than a few steps away from you and took aim. Aunt Veronica got him with one of her knives, but it was too late. He'd fired. The arrow hit you so hard that it knocked you back against a tree. It hit you in the chest. Mother…Mother tried to stop the bleeding, but it was so deep…and it punctured your lung…" She looked away as the tears gathered again in her eyes, but composed herself and kept going.

"You tried to soothe her, but…you died. All of the attackers were killed save one, and he plunged his own knife into his heart rather than tell Aunt Veronica anything. She and Uncle George…they had to pull Mother away from you. When they brought you home, I could see the blood…my whole world shattered in that one moment."

Roxton made a soothing noise and gently took her hand. As gruesome as it was to hear the details of his own death, it was worse to know that his little girl knew all of the details as well, and that his death had wounded her spirit so severely. She gave him a brief smile and continued.

"We recognized the tribal colors. They're called the Maanti, but we knew that the Maanti didn't have facial tattoos. We tracked them down, but they told us that several months before a group had broken off from the main tribe. About thirty people chose to follow a man from outside the tribe. His name was Kirdon. The leaders of the Maanti hadn't heard from the rogue members since they'd left, but they told us that Kirdon's words and many of his actions before the group broke off had made the leaders uneasy. They couldn't quite say why, but they didn't trust him. In the time since you died, no one has heard anything from him or his followers. _Nothing_ for ten years."

Roxton frowned. He knew the Maanti-they'd done some trading with the Zanga and consequently a little with the explorers. They were generally peaceable, and he couldn't think of anything his group had done to upset any of the Maanti.

"How is it you're here, Anna?" he asked. While Anna's account of the attack was important, this question had been gnawing on his mind since he'd figured out who she was.

She fidgeted, and then shrugged. In for a penny…

"Uncle George kept meticulous notes about everything concerning his experiments. You know that. Well, I found a journal of his that talked about when you all went to New Amazonia. I gathered that if I studied the phenomena enough, I just might be able to use it to my advantage."

"But how could you get it to bring you here, to this moment?"

She bit her lip. "You know who Mother is, right? The Chosen One, Morrighan reincarnate?"

He nodded.

"I'm her daughter. Something of that was passed on to me. I can't do very much. It's mostly just a sense about things, and some facility with languages, though nothing approaching Mother's skill. But I do have something she doesn't have. If I concentrate enough, I can affect the world around me for just a little while. I've used it recently to trick some dinosaurs into running right at a trap we've set. So I reasoned that I might be able to use it to make the portal take me to where I wanted to go, namely, here and now."

Roxton was stunned, to say the least. Yes, he knew who his wife was and was even now witnessing a blossoming of some abilities she hadn't had before, but he'd seen no sign of it in the young Anna, and he and Marguerite thought their daughter hadn't inherited that aspect of her mother. However, according to this Anna, she had.

"How dangerous was it for you to try this?"

She averted her eyes. "Not that much."

"Anna."

"Really, it wasn't all that bad."

"_Anna_."

She sighed. "Very dangerous. Uncle George tried his best to talk me out of it. We didn't know for certain that it would work. I could very well have tossed myself some other time and place entirely, and been lost to my family. But how could I have _not_ risked it, Daddy? How could I have let you die if I could at least try to stop it?"

Roxton had no answer, fully aware that in her position, he most likely would have done the same.

"I've set traps around the campsite and a little further into the jungle," Anna said, changing tack. There was precious little time to argue the merits of her actions. She had to make sure he understood what was coming and how they could possibly stop it. Roxton accepted her bald change of subject, just as aware of the passing time as Anna was. She went on to explain the nature of the traps, and Roxton listened attentively. It was quite literally his life that was on the line should he not take in everything she was saying.

When she finished, Roxton raised an eyebrow in appreciation. She was clever, and exceedingly schooled in jungle lore. Her traps would likely take a few of the attackers out of the fight, and give the explorers fair warning when they approached.

"Very clever, Anna," he said, watching a smile brighten her somewhat somber face. Yes, that was much better. He didn't like to see Anna so sad. "But let's head back to the clearing now. We need to explain this to the others, and I know your mother will want to see you."

Her eyes widened and she took a step away from him, holding her hands up as if to ward him off.

"No, Daddy, I can't," she said. "I wasn't even supposed to let you know that I'm here. There must not be too much change. If I go back with you and let Mother see me, then she, Aunt Veronica, and Uncle George will know something of the future. They could inadvertently change it to become something worse. I can't risk that, Daddy, please."

His brows lowered, but he knew that she was right. Her past might be fixed, but his and Marguerite's future was still fluid, still malleable. They could do considerable damage.

"Then if not to meet your mother, Anna, then at least come to the camp. You can stay at the edge like you were earlier. It would give me more peace of mind to know that you were nearby. I'll tell everyone that you're a native, and shy. All right?"

She considered. It was the best compromise, she supposed. She could be close to her parents, but none of the rest of the group would actually know who she was. She nodded.

"And if I'm still in the jungle, perhaps I can trip up one or two of the attackers."

Roxton's eyes narrowed.

"Don't you dare go and risk yourself, Anna," he nearly growled.

She rolled her eyes. "Just perhaps the last two, Daddy, they'd never be missed."

He frowned, but let it go and picked up the lantern and his rifle. They were off.

Marguerite was waiting anxiously at the campsite, her eyes scanning the dark jungle around them. Both Veronica and Challenger held their weapons ready. Suddenly the nearby trees rustled. Marguerite held her pistol out in front of her.

"Who's there?" she called out, ruthlessly suppressing her fear. If Roxton had met up with someone unfriendly in the darkness…She let out her breath in a great rush as her husband's voice called back to relax, he was coming towards them. She saw Roxton come forward, and stop and turn back a few feet from the camp. She watched in puzzlement as he spoke a few words to a smaller form behind him, which was keeping back in the shadows of the trees. He finally gave a sharp nod and turned back to the group, quickly covering the last few feet and entering the circle of firelight. Marguerite smiled at him, and he surprised her by gathering her into a gentle but fervent hug. She drew back.

"John?"

"It's nothing," he assured her. "Just felt like holding you."

She raised an eyebrow in amusement, and he shrugged and kissed her on her forehead.

Challenger gestured to the trees, where the shadowy form could still be seen.

"I see you made a friend, John," he commented. "Care to tell us who it is?"

Roxton turned back to look, and Anna drew back further into the trees. She could hear her heart pounding. If Veronica didn't believe him, and came after her…

"That's a native, George. Her name is An..jes. Anjes. She came to tell us something. She overheard a group of renegades from the Maanti planning on attacking us. She trusts that our group are good people, so she came to warn us."

In the jungle, Anna rolled her eyes. _Anjes_. Honestly. Her father had nearly blurted out her name. That wartime training he talked about had certainly gone downhill!

"She came by herself?" Veronica was skeptical. She had more experience with the Maanti than the others, and wondered why this one would wander so far, and at night, no less.

"We've always traded fairly with the Maanti. She knows that. And apparently this renegade group has worried the leaders of the Maanti for a while now. She doesn't know why they want to attack, only that she doesn't want us to be hurt."

"Why won't she come join us?" Marguerite wanted to know.

Roxton shrugged. "She's shy, I suppose. She didn't even want me to see her. Something about the order of things, I didn't quite understand it all."

Veronica nodded. As odd as the girl's behavior was, the Maanti were known for being fair and honest. The fact that the girl risked coming to warn them even at night, through the jungle, was something.

"When did she say they were planning on attacking?" she asked.

"Anjes said she heard them say around dawn. She was laying some traps around when we frightened her off. We should be able to hear them coming, especially if we stay alert. However, we should look as though we're sleeping. It could lull them into a false sense of security." The others nodded at his words, and Anna sighed in relief. They believed him; what was more, they would be ready.

She watched as they discussed the situation on voices pitched too low for her to hear. Roxton pointed out her traps to the rest of the group, and they added a few modifications of their own. They finished as the sky started to barely lighten, and settled themselves around the fire. To anyone looking in at the campsite, they looked as though they were deep in slumber. Anna, though, saw that everyone had their guns (or in Veronica's case, knives) at the ready, and were quite awake.

The sky continued to lighten, and the myriad small noises of the jungle began to increase. Anna fought to keep herself still. In spite of what her father thought, it was _she_ and not her traps that were their first line of defense. She had to be ready the minute she heard or saw the attackers. Finally, the sun peeked over the horizon, and Anna thought she heard a rustle. Her head whipped around, and in the hazy dawn light, Anna saw several shapes creep stealthily towards the camp. She took a breath, her heart pounding in her ears. She pulled out a piece of flint and a small piece of iron pyrite that she'd stuffed in her pocket just prior to leaving home, and carefully struck them together. The sound was minimal, but a fat spark jumped lazily free and landed on the thin line of powder she'd lain. Hissing faintly, the line of fire raced along the gunpowder trail.

Without warning, a tiny explosion sounded. The attackers jumped in shock and whirled to find the source of the sound.

However, at the camp, everyone started in surprise, their eyes wide.

"That must have been on of the traps," Roxton murmured. "Be ready now. They're on their way." The group stayed still, but their grips tightened on their weapons.

Wary now, but still committed to their goal, the attackers continued towards the camp. Their eyes darted around, scanning the jungle. Finally they came close enough to see the camp. They muttered amongst themselves. Anna gritted her teeth. She rarely envied her mother's instantaneous language translation, but this was a time where understanding the words would have been very useful. She gathered, from their gestures and body language, that they still meant to attack. The fifteen men spread into a pattern similar to a crescent, no doubt to try and cut off any of the group that might run.

She saw them poise for an instant, and then, with a bone-chilling yell, they charged forward. However, for three of them, the yells changed to howls of pain as their feet found the holes Anna had made, and there was a sharp crack as bones broke protesting the strain of legs being held in place while the body kept going forward. The rest charged on, confident that they would still outnumber the explorers.

Their confidence changed to sheer incredulity as instead of sleepy people, the four explorers stood up, weapons in hand. Shots began ringing out from three of the four, and the whistle as Veronica's knives cut the air was quite audible. Anna's vine traps were quite helpful in helping Roxton and Marguerite determine where the attackers were coming from. The slap of the branches against unprotected skin gave the two targets to aim for. Anna helped again by firing at her second pile of gunpowder, which caught and killed another attacker in the blast.

By now the attackers had been reduced to six men, and they were too close to use the guns. Hand to hand combat began. Two men attacked Roxton, and he punched, hit, and kicked them. They brandished knives, and advanced on Roxton, but one suddenly dropped. Roxton looked up to see Marguerite standing there coolly, her hand slowly lowering her gun. He nodded thanks and turned back to his opponent.

They circled each other, the Maanti taking swipes at Roxton. One came close and sliced a neat line along Roxton's arm. He hissed but ignored the wound, and sprang at his attacker. They grappled and fell to the ground. Roxton grunted, then shoved the dead weight off. He'd managed to turn the other's knife as they fell, and the man had skewered himself with his own weapon.

Meanwhile, Challenger, Veronica, and Marguerite fought with their own attackers. Challenger tried to disarm the man he fought, but the native evaded him. With a yell, he charged Challenger and aimed his knife towards Challenger's heart. Challenger turned and ducked at the last moment, and his attacker's knife merely tore a long gash into his arm. Challenger shoved his pistol into the man's ribs and pulled the trigger.

After ducking a number of blows and swipes from her opponent. Veronica managed to grab hold and rolled, throwing her attacker over her head. He might have lived had he not landed on a slight rise in the ground. His neck snapped, and he exhaled his last.

The man fighting with Marguerite tried to stab her, but her loose sleeve caught the brunt of the attack and saved her from his knife. Angered, he roared and swung his arm. His fist connected with her cheek, and she was knocked down. He raised his arm and charged towards her prone form, and she raised her pistol and shot him dead in the heart. He barely missed landing on her as he fell.

The one attacker left saw an opportunity and charged towards the unprotected Roxton. To his shock, Roxton turned and saw him. He looked around at his dead fellows, and knew what he had to do. He raised his knife, preparing to fall on it and keep his secrets. So intent on this little ritual was he that he failed to notice Roxton spring forward and scoop up his rifle. He didn't see Roxton use the butt of the rifle to neatly tap him on the skull. The man's eyes rolled up in his head, and his knife slipped from his lax fingers as he fell over.

Anna watched as they fought, her heart skipping madly in her chest. She held her breath as Marguerite fought her attacker. She had warned her father, but she couldn't bear it if Marguerite died…She tore her eyes away from her mother as she saw a blur out of the corner of her eye. Her mouth dropped.

Sixteen attackers. Not fifteen, _sixteen_. This one had held back. She suddenly saw why. In case the main group failed, this one man was left to complete the mission. He raised a bow to his shoulder and fitted an arrow, aiming towards Roxton. Her mind whirled. There was too much foliage between her and the bowman to shoot him, and if she ran to get closer, she would waste precious time trying to get off a shot. She made a decision.

"For you, Daddy," she whispered as she dropped her gun and ran. She yelled, and the man faltered and lowered the bow slightly, but in his surprise, he let go. Just as the arrow left the bow, she darted in front of it.

She gasped as the arrow pierced her skin just past the edge of her right shoulder blade. White-hot heat lanced through her, followed by swelling pain. She felt her blood running down her back, and she fell to her knees. She blocked the pain for a moment and twisted around, her arm swinging out behind her. The bowman barely saw a flash of light before her throwing knife imbedded itself deeply in his throat. Anna saw him fall backwards with only a gurgle to announce his death. She knew that the knife she kept in her boot would come in handy.

She looked up, fighting pain and shock. Was he…had they…did it work? She struggled to pick out her father among the white spots that crowded her vision. She finally saw him club the last of the attackers over the head before the man could throw himself on his own knife. She smiled. Her father was alive! She'd done it! She finally gave in to the darkness and slid bonelessly to the jungle floor.

Roxton stood panting, bent over slightly with his hands on his knees. It was done. The attack was over, they'd all survived, and though he'd wake up with one hell of a headache, they'd managed to keep one of the attackers alive. He looked around, assessing the rest of the group. Veronica, largely unscathed, was tending to a long gash on Challenger's arm. Marguerite, breathing a bit heavily herself, smiled at him as she pushed a loose tendril of hair out of her eyes. She was sporting the beginnings of a nasty bruise on her cheekbone, and her sleeve was ripped, but she was otherwise unhurt. He closed his eyes briefly and let out a sigh of relief.

He opened his eyes to see Marguerite walking towards him. She touched his face gently when she reached him, and only then was he aware of his sore jaw. That last attacker had a mean punch. He also noted the sting as salty sweat started to settle in a scratch along his forearm. His wife cocked an elegant eyebrow.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly, her eyes wandering over his face.

He smiled at her and took her hand, softly kissing her fingers.

"Just a little worse for wear, that's all," he replied. She rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly. Leave it to Roxton to make light of any injury.

"Let Veronica have a look at that scratch anyway," she said as she started to tug him over to where Challenger sat. She glanced up at him as they walked. "Lucky for us that your friend Anjes decided to warn us."

Roxton stopped dead in his tracks. Anna! She'd stayed in the jungle to see if she could dispatch a few of the attackers. He had to go make sure she was all right! He pulled his arm free of Marguerite's grasp. She looked at him in confusion.

"Anjes," he said, worry evident in his voice. "She was in the jungle. She might have tried to stop a couple of them. I have to go see if she was hurt."

"John, wait, I'll go with you," Marguerite said, turning again towards Veronica and Challenger. "Just let me get some bandages-"

"No!" Roxton nearly shouted, startling her. She turned her head back to look at him with wide eyes.

"It's all right, Marguerite. It's just…that there may still be some danger out there. If I need help, I'll call." He disappeared into the jungle.

Marguerite scowled after him, and exchanged a glance with Veronica. They both nodded slightly, and Marguerite stooped to gather a few bandages. Her husband might want to protect her, but she wasn't about to let the bloody fool go there alone. She wasn't about to survive a large attack only to lose him to a straggler. She headed after him.

Roxton quickly found the spot where Anna had been waiting, but she wasn't there. He hissed her name, hoping that she was hiding out of sight, and a heavy weight started to settle in his stomach at her lack of response. He took a few steps into the jungle and nearly tripped over a dead native who had a knife sticking out of his throat. Roxton's eyes widened, and he started to crouch to examine the man, when a flash of pale blue caught his eye. His heart started to hammer in his chest. Hadn't Anna been wearing a blue blouse?

He raised his eyes and saw an arm clothed in blue sticking out from a patch of foliage. He straightened up and rushed over, going around the plants to see what had happened. It _was_ Anna, lying still. His heart leapt into his throat as he looked at his daughter.

"Oh, damn," he whispered.

_Oh, I know, I'm evil to stop here. __:) Did Anna give her life to save her father? Will Marguerite come face-to-face with her daughter? What will the captured rebel reveal about the attack? All these answers and more are coming in Chapter 5, so stay tuned! Remember, please hit the little button and REVIEW!!!_


	5. Part V

His horrified gaze took in every detail. An arrow protruded from her back, and from the arrow, a patch of red was spreading across the soft blue material of her blouse. She was absolutely motionless, her eyes closed, and several terrifying moments passed before the slight motion of the arrow let Roxton know that she was still breathing. He dropped to his knees at her side, scrutinizing the arrow. He grimaced. The arrowhead was buried deep in the muscle, and he would have to turn her over to see if it had gone through. But turning her over could potentially worsen the problem.

He got up hurriedly and ran to look at the other arrows the dead native had in his quiver. He let out a short breath. The arrowheads were smooth, so if it was not too deep, it was possible that he could pull the arrow out rather than shove it through her. And he had not detected any poisons on the arrowheads, so Anna was spared that as well.

Roxton went back to his daughter and dropped to his knees beside her. He gently started to roll her slightly to check the arrow. It had not gone through. He let out a small sigh of relief; that would have meant two wounds to deal with. As he started to turn her back, he heard her let out a small moan.

"Anna?" He held his breath as her head tilted back, and she drew in a shuddering breath. Her eyes opened, wide and dazed, and he winced at the pain he saw in their green depths.

"Daddy," she whispered. "Daddy, it hurts."

He clenched his jaw. He gently cupped her cheek.

"I know, sweetheart, I know. But it's going to be fine, Anna, I'm here. I'll take care of you." He shifted her a little awkwardly, trying not to hit the arrow. "How, Anna? How did this happen?"

"Did you see the archer? The one with a knife in his throat?"

"Your work, I take it."

She smiled a little, but a grimace of pain swept it off her face. He waited helplessly as she gritted her teeth and waited for the pain to recede.

"He was waiting. He was waiting in case the main attack failed. He was aiming an arrow at you, Daddy. I didn't have a clear shot, and no time to get to him before he shot. So I did the only thing I could."

She was pale, Roxton noted. Shock had dilated her eyes, and her skin was too chilled for his liking. He shook his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Oh, Anna," he whispered. "You didn't have to, my little love, you didn't. I wouldn't have wanted you to be hurt in place of me." He gazed down at her, and she stared back with tears pooling in her eyes.

"It was my choice, Daddy."

He opened his mouth to reply when a warm wetness touched the hand that was supporting her back. He glanced down, and let out his breath in a rush. The blood soaking her blouse had spread even more. He looked back at her.

"Anna, I have to get this arrow out and stop the bleeding. It'll hurt, but I need to. You're already-" He bit off his words, afraid to say more. She smiled wanly at him.

"In shock, I know, Daddy," she replied. "Every day there's a chance of something happening, so Aunt Veronica made sure that we all knew what to expect with an injury. And I know shock can do nearly as much damage as the injury itself."

He was about to respond when he heard the rustle of something moving through the brush. He turned his head sharply towards the sound.

"John? John, where are you? Is your friend all right?"

Marguerite's voice drifted through the trees. She was close. Roxton felt just a bit calmer. She would be able to help him tend to Anna. However, Anna didn't share his sentiments. Her eyes widened even more, and she gasped.

"No!" she whispered. "Daddy, she can't see me! Please!" Her hand came up to grasp his shirt with desperate fingers. He gazed down into her panic-stricken features.

"Anna, she can help us. I can tend to your wound better if your mother helps me. I'm not about to let that wound kill you because I couldn't treat you properly."

She swallowed. "No, Daddy. I can't let her see me. Remember? You weren't supposed to see me either. Uncle George said so! With Mother being what she is, I couldn't even begin to imagine what damage could result if she sees me!"

"You could hide your face, Anna, and Marguerite could just help me with your back. She wouldn't know-"

"My clothes, Daddy," she interrupted, with a whimper. "Mother's not stupid. She knows perfectly well that the Maanti don't dress like this. If she sees me dressed like this she won't stop. She'll find a way to see _me_. And Daddy, if she sees me…"

He looked at her for a long moment. Her words came back to him. _I can't risk that, Daddy, please._ She had risked her life to come here, and risked it again to save him. What kind of callow man would throw it all away when she was begging him not to? But he couldn't bear to chance her health.

"Anna, please. I need her to help me. I won't lose you."

She looked back at him without words, her lower lip trembling. It was a seeming impasse. He knew he couldn't treat her by himself, and she didn't want her mother to see her. He heard Marguerite getting closer, and Anna began to look even more frantic as she gazed in the direction Marguerite was coming from. Roxton's jaw tightened. Then, an idea came to him. He turned it over in his mind. Far-fetched it was, yes, but it might be their only chance. His quick intake of air startled the girl, and Anna gazed up at him.

"Daddy?"

He focused on her. "Anna, you said that one of your abilities included a sort of masking of reality. Could you do that enough to mask your clothes and make yourself look as though you were wearing Maanti dress?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "I don't know, Daddy, I've never tried it on myself. And I don't know if I could fool Mother. She…knows things."

"But you said that she didn't have this ability of yours. You might be able to maintain your illusion for just a little while." She still looked doubtful, so Roxton allowed some pleading to creep into his voice. "Anna, we need her to help you. Please, sweetheart, just try."

She swallowed hard, and her eyes flickered again to where Marguerite would emerge from the trees. She bit her lip and nodded, then closed her eyes, concentrating. Roxton blinked hard. The air around Anna seemed to swirl, and suddenly she was wearing an outfit similar to what they'd seen Maanti women wearing. His jaw dropped. He gingerly touched the clothes, and blinked again. Though his _eyes_ were telling him he was touching a mangled top made from the heavy green weave the Maanti favored, his _hand_ told him he was touching smooth cloth very similar to what Marguerite would wear. Apparently the illusion was visual only. He would have to make sure that Marguerite didn't try to touch Anna's clothes.

He quickly pulled out his knife and felt for the torn edges of Anna's blouse. He slipped the knife underneath the cloth and slit upwards towards her collar, then down almost to her waist. It was an odd sensation to see his knife slide easily through seemingly course fabric that should have snagged it. The cloth sagged, and he pulled it away from the wound. Roxton gingerly probed the area around the arrow, and Anna hissed in protest. He snatched his hand back, and then stared at the pale skin of her back. The Maanti were not this fair. He only hoped that Marguerite would be distracted enough by treating the injury to think the paleness was due to the trauma.

Marguerite finally emerged from the trees, one hand clutching a wad of bandages and the other firmly gripping her pistol. When she saw Roxton, she briefly relaxed, but then caught her breath at the sight of the young Maanti woman lying on the ground, an arrow lodged in her back. So the girl _had_ been hurt in the attack. She saw that Roxton had already cut the cloth away from the wound. Good. Less for her to do. She advanced towards them.

Roxton, his hand resting gently on Anna's shoulder, felt her tense. "Gently, now," he murmured soothingly, and she relaxed just a fraction. He watched Marguerite carefully as she approached, but there was nothing in her face to indicate that Anna's appearance was out of the ordinary. She reached them and crouched down next to her husband.

"This is your friend?" she asked softly, her eyes assessing the ugly wound. Roxton nodded, his hand gently smoothing a few dark strands of hair from the young woman, whose face was turned away. Marguerite cocked her head slightly. That gesture had been…_fatherly_. He did the same thing to Anna. She dismissed it; Roxton obviously felt some guilt that this girl was hurt, and was only trying to soothe her.

She turned her attention to the problem at hand. The arrowhead was buried in the girl's flesh. It would not be easy to extricate it. She handed Roxton the bundle of bandages, then pulled a small piece from the top of the bundle and took out the canteen hanging at her waist. She wet the cloth and began to wipe away the streaks of blood on the girl's back. The girl-_Anjes_, she told herself, _John said her name was Anjes_-whimpered as Marguerite came closer to the wound. Marguerite stopped and glanced at Roxton.

"Did the arrow go through?" she asked him quietly. He shook his head, and Marguerite closed her eyes briefly. It would almost have been easier if the arrow had gone through. Then they could have merely broken the shaft and pushed the rest through. Now they would have to pull it out, and she knew for certain that the edges of the arrow would catch on the swollen muscle surrounding the wound. She opened her eyes and looked determinedly at her husband.

"John, I'm going to try and pull the arrow out. You need to brace her. Unless you want to try and get the arrow out?"

Roxton shook his head. He knew that he would probably have an easier time removing the arrow, but then Marguerite would have to touch Anna to hold her still. Marguerite was no fool. Even in the midst of an emergency such as this, she would be perfectly aware that was she was touching was not what she was seeing. She would ask questions. He couldn't do that to Anna.

Marguerite took a deep breath, and instructed Roxton to hold Anjes still. He gripped the girl's arms tightly, and nodded to Marguerite. She stood up and reached down to grasp the arrow firmly. She braced herself and pulled.

The first two tries only succeeded in raising the arrow a fraction each time. Marguerite gritted her teeth. She could hear the sobbing that Anjes was trying to hide. Roxton's face was looking more and more stricken. Marguerite knew that his guilt over the girl's injury, even if it was not his fault, was consuming him. They had to finish this _now_. She tightened her hold on the arrow, and then gave an almighty heave. The arrow came loose, and Marguerite stumbled back slightly. Anjes screamed as the arrow tore free of her skin. The sound tore at Marguerite's heart, even though she knew that removing the arrow had not been an option. The wound began to bleed heavily, and Marguerite dropped the arrow. She dropped down next to Anjes and, reaching over the girl, grabbed the bundle from Roxton.

"Here, John," she said, shoving some of the bandages into his hand. "Put pressure on that wound." He met her eyes, and Marguerite was startled at the pain she saw there. He dropped her gaze and firmly pressed against the injury. Marguerite looked at him a moment more before she pulled out the small bottles of carbolic acid and salve that had been wrapped in the bandages. She opened the cap of the bottle of acid and touched Roxton's hand.

"John, this is going to hurt her, but you know that it's necessary. We need to clean that wound." He nodded and removed the blood-soaked cloth. Marguerite hesitated for a few moments before she poured some of the stinging solution onto the girl's back. Anjes shrieked even worse than before, her body jerking in pain, before she mercifully passed out. Marguerite gamely continued, pouring the carbolic onto the cloth she used earlier and wiping the surface and edges of the wound. With a gentle hand, she smoothed Veronica's healing salve on the girl's back. Roxton helped her finish the bandaging of the wound.

Roxton passed a hand over his eyes. He knew that he must look awful. Having to hold his daughter down as Marguerite removed the arrow and used the carbolic acid to clean the wound, hearing Anna's cries of pain, had been so difficult that he was surprised his heart was still beating and not lying in pieces in his chest. He reached over and captured Marguerite's hand.

"Thank you for helping her," he said quietly. Marguerite gently pressed his hand, wondering again at the haunted look in his eyes. This was more than just guilt. She resolved to question him about it later.

Marguerite carefully gathered up the used bandages. Leaving anything with blood on it out here was only begging raptors, or other dangerous predators, to attack. She looked at Roxton. He was still sitting next to Anjes, who was moving slightly. She was coming around. Marguerite walked over to them to check on the girl. She reached over to turn the girl's head, but Roxton's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Marguerite looked down at his hand and back up to his face.

"I just wanted to check to make sure she's breathing properly, John, and to check her temperature to see if any infection was setting in."

Roxton sighed. He'd been too abrupt, he knew, but to let Marguerite look at Anna's face was to break his word to his daughter. He smiled apologetically.

"I know, Marguerite, it's just that she doesn't want any of us to see her. She didn't even want me to see her." _That's the truth_, he thought wryly, _just not the whole truth. And I'm going to have to see how much not-whole-truth I can get away with now_.

"Do you remember that the Maanti believe that the actions of the whole are infinitely better than the actions of the one?" She nodded, and he continued. "If we see her, then the next time we trade with the Maanti, we would be able to pick her out of the crowd. It would disturb everything, she believes. I would wager that Anjes is not even her real name." _And isn't THAT the truth_.

"But _you_ know what she looks like."

"I made her look at me. That was out of her control. But this isn't. Don't you think it would be easier to have one person keep knowledge a secret, or many, Marguerite?" he said, his eyebrows raised. "What would Parsifal say?"

She gave him a look, but conceded his point. It was indeed much, much easier to have one person keep secrets than many.

"Then you have to figure out a way to keep her face, hidden, John, because we need to take her back to camp. We can't leave her out here."

He nodded. He'd thought about this, and he wasn't going to leave his daughter alone and hurt in the jungle.

"I can carry her, Marguerite, and you can go ahead of me. If you bring me a blanket, then I can cover her face and still keep her at the camp."

"That sounds fine, John. We can respect her wishes. After all, she saved us."

Roxton smiled a little sadly. "Yes, she did. And now we're going to return the favor."

He waited for Marguerite to start, and then gingerly, carefully, lifted Anna into his arms. She groaned as he shifted her to a more comfortable position. He looked down into her face.

"Anna?" he whispered. She opened her eyes, their color dulled slightly by pain. She gave him a ghost of a smile.

"I heard you, Daddy," she said weakly. "Thank you for keeping my secret."

He kissed her hair and cradled her close. She turned her head into his shoulder, and he walked after Marguerite to the camp.

When Marguerite reached the edge of the camp, she quietly explained the situation to Veronica and Challenger. They agreed to respect Anjes' wishes, and Veronica handed Marguerite a blanket. They waited for Roxton to reach the edge of the camp. Veronica and Challenger gasped slightly at the slightness of the form in Roxton's arm, and at the blood-spotted bandage on her back. The girl's face was turned away from them, but the tenseness of her body showed that she was clearly awake. Marguerite solemnly handed Roxton the blanket, and he tucked it around the girl, draping a fold of it over her head to hide her face. He strode into the camp and carefully laid her down next to the fire away from the rest of the group.

After making sure that Anna was settled, Roxton joined the rest of the group as they stared down at the only attacker to survive.

"Is she all right?" Veronica asked, indicating Anna. Roxton nodded.

"She's hurt and groggy, but she's going to be fine." He would not allow any other outcome.

"We checked the others outside the camp, but the ones who broke their legs killed themselves before we could get to them. This is the only one left."

Roxton looked down at the man with an expression that boded little good for him. The man stared back defiantly, but even his wild black tattoos and outthrust chin could not hide the fear and incredulity in his eyes. Roxton gestured to Marguerite.

"I want to find out what this piece of filth and the others were doing here, and why they attacked us. That girl over by the fire risked her life for us; I want to know why."

She nodded. She understood attacks because they had crossed into forbidden territory, or in the case of the Vantu, for food, but to her best knowledge they'd never done anything to any of the Maanti to warrant an attack. She stared at the captive.

"Who are you? Why did you attack us?" she asked him in his own tongue. His eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing. She asked again, and again he refused to speak. She crouched down to look him in the eye.

"I want you to understand," she said quietly, "that the man standing next to me will happily tear you limb from limb if you don't answer. You tried to kill us, and you hurt a friend of his." The man looked confused at her words, but he could clearly see the malice in Roxton's expression.

Marguerite dropped her voice even more. "And the rest of us will not lift a finger to stop him."

The man sneered at that.

"Perhaps you and the old man would not, but I know that other woman, that Veronica, would not let me be killed."

"You could have taken her away from her child and her husband. She does not take that well."

The man looked at Veronica to find her staring at him and fingering the knife hanging on her belt. He swallowed.

"Still, nothing you do could compare with what my leader Kirdon would do."

Marguerite smiled. It was not a nice smile.

"Would you really like to test that idea? We can be very…inventive."

The man searched their faces, clearly not liking what he was seeing. He finally sagged slightly. Marguerite knew he had given in. She nodded to Roxton and began.

"I will ask you only one more time. Who are you, and why did you attack us?"

"I am Sirdo. I did not decide to attack you. It was our leader, Kirdon," the man replied. "He told us what we were to do, and why."

"You wanted to kill us," Marguerite stated. "But why?"

Sirdo shook his head. "No. Not all of you. Only the hunter. Kirdon told us that he needed to die so that we could secure our destiny."

Marguerite was startled. _Roxton_ was the target? Why him? Why would this group want to attack her husband? Roxton touched her arm.

"What is it, Marguerite? Did he say why he attacked us?"

She nodded. "They weren't really attacking all of us, John. They were coming…for you."

_What will he tell them? And will Anna be able to get back home? Stay tuned for chapter 6! And please, please, hit that little purple button and review!_


	6. Part VI

Even though Anna had told him that he died in the attack ten years in her past, Roxton was still a little disconcerted to hear Marguerite say that he was the focus of the raid. He managed to produce an astonished face for Marguerite's benefit, and looked down at Sirdo. At least now they would get answers, which was a far sight better than what Anna had gotten.

"Ask him what makes me so important. Veronica's better known to the various tribes, and Challenger is revered by many as almost a mystic. Hell, Marguerite, your mind is far finer than mine." His wife smiled slightly at the comment. "I'm only a hunter. A good one, admittedly, but how would that make me a target for these people?"

She relayed the question to Sirdo, who paused before answering. His gaze raked all of the explorers, finally resting on Marguerite's face. More of the bravado dropped from his expression.

"You must promise to protect me from Kirdon," he insisted. Marguerite raised an eyebrow.

"Why would you care about that? He must think that you were killed in the attack."

Sirdo shook his head. "He will know. He will know that we failed, and he will come for me."

Marguerite shrugged. "As you like. _If_ he comes, we will do our best to protect you."

Sirdo took a deep breath and began.

"Many cycles of the moon ago, our leader Kirdon was visited by a great god. This god told him of our destiny. He told Kirdon that we were his chosen few, and that when it came time for the god to break the barrier and enter our physical realm, we would receive our destiny. We would be the leaders of this place."

Marguerite shook her head. Power, of course. The ultimate prize. And obviously this Kirdon was a willing receptacle to whatever this "god" of theirs wanted with them. She wondered if his followers knew, as she did all too well, that the promise of power for many invariably collapsed into power for the few or the one. She turned her attention back to Sirdo. He glanced at her but shied away from the look in her eyes.

"Kirdon found those of us who could embrace the gift of our god's favor. Many among the Maanti refused to believe. Their leaders even prepared to cast us from the tribe. However, Kirdon saw their deceit. He prepared us, and we left. We found a new home, and settled to our satisfaction, and waited for instruction from our god. We tattooed our faces to show that we were true to our god. After many days, Kirdon came to us with a message. Our god told Kirdon that there would be those who would try to prevent his return. In truth, only two who _could_. The Protector and the Chosen One."

Marguerite finished translating, and then she and Veronica glanced at each other. Their respective roles as Chosen One and Protector of the Plateau were fairly new to them, Marguerite only discovering the whole truth shortly before Anna's birth, and Veronica assuming her role barely two years past. However, they both knew that their destinies were still being laid out, and here was another piece of the puzzle.

"Do you know who those are?" Marguerite asked, playing the innocent. She was fairly certain that Kirdon and his followers knew precisely who she and Veronica were, but just in case they didn't…

Sirdo threw her a look.

"You and her," he said, indicating Veronica with his chin. "We were told of you long before this attack. The god said that very soon you would be reaching the fullness of your powers. When the Chosen One's powers are complete, then she will be able to awaken the true potential of the Protector. With her abilities awake, and with the support of the power of the Chosen One, the Protector will stop our god when he tries to enter our world."

Marguerite translated for the group, and then frowned. "Then why not kill me or Veronica? Wouldn't that solve the problem better than killing Roxton?"

Sirdo sighed.

"I myself asked Kirdon that question. He said that the fates of the Chosen One and the Protector are closely watched by other powers. Should the Protector fall, her power will pass back to her mother, who our god knows is still in Avalon. And should the Chosen One fall, then there is another of her blood for the gifts to pass to."

Marguerite told the group what Sirdo had said, and she and Roxton shared a worried look. _Anna_! She was the only one related to Marguerite, and according to Sirdo, she would inherit the status of Chosen One should something happen to Marguerite. Roxton was even more certain than his wife. His eyes flickered briefly to his daughter lying still under the blanket. Marguerite was only hearing it now, but he _knew_ that Anna had inherited some of Marguerite's gifts.

"But should the hunter, your Roxton, die," Sirdo continued, "then that would prevent the Chosen One from fully developing her powers. Her grief would cripple her, and without her powers, the Protector would not be able to hold back our god."

Veronica shook her head after Marguerite repeated Sirdo's words. "Tell him that there's not a chance of that happening to you. I know how much you love Roxton, but you're too strong to let his death destroy you, Marguerite. And we live with that possibility every day."

Marguerite smiled at Veronica's confident defense of her. They'd certainly come a very long way from when they'd first met. She relayed Veronica's words to Sirdo. He glanced at Veronica, then back to Marguerite and a little lower, his gaze resting on her abdomen.

"But his death would damage you enough that you would also lose the child you carry within," Sirdo said. Marguerite gasped and laid her hand protectively on her stomach. "The dual loss would be too much for even you."

Roxton gazed worriedly at Marguerite, and at the hand she'd placed on her stomach. Had Sirdo threatened the baby? If so, Roxton would cheerfully snap his neck. He touched Marguerite's shoulder.

"What did he say, love?"

She glanced up at him, then at Challenger and Veronica. Marguerite and Roxton had been waiting to tell the rest of the group, but it needed to be said now. She swallowed.

"He said that John's death would cause me to…cause me to lose my baby. And that the two losses would be too much for me, and I would never be able to fully become the Chosen One." She glanced up at Roxton, who squeezed her shoulder warmly.

Veronica closed her mouth with a snap. She'd suspected, but hadn't been sure…She knelt down.

"Oh, Marguerite, you're pregnant?" At Marguerite's nod, Veronica grinned. "I knew it!" The two women smiled, but it was short-lived as they turned their angry gazes back to Sirdo.

"How dare you threaten my baby!" Marguerite hissed. Shock over his revelation was quickly turning to fury. Her eyes were now snapping silvery-green fire at the man, and he shrank back in the face of her anger.

"Our god said it was the only way!" Sirdo whimpered. Roxton gently drew Marguerite back a ways, and leaned over to hug her shoulders.

"Hush, my love, it's all right," he said. "We won't let that happen. What I think is important now is to figure out just who this Kirdon is getting advice from." The others nodded, and Marguerite asked the question.

"Who is this god of yours?"

Sirdo's brow creased in puzzlement. "I was certain that you knew of him. Only Kirdon has actually spoken to him, but we thought that all of you had been given the privilege of knowing the great god Kayle."

As one, the explorer's jaws dropped open upon hearing the name Kayle. Even Anna, hidden in her blanket, widened her eyes in shock. Kayle. It had to be the same man, the one who had impersonated Challenger, the one from Finn's time. The one who had destroyed the world.

"K-kayle?" Marguerite stuttered, when she had recovered enough to close her mouth. She looked at Roxton, then at the others. They all shared the same look of disbelief. Kayle had already tried to enter the world, but he had been driven back, and Finn had told them that he appeared in her time, not now. Was he trying to change the future once more?

Sirdo nodded slowly. The explorers' reaction was confusing, to say the least. He had been assured that they knew about Kayle.

"Yes, the god Kayle. He will lead us to glory. We will be the leaders-"

"Enough!" a new voice called. The explorers brought their heads up and stared past Sirdo. They saw a new man emerging from the jungle. His coppery skin was strangely wan, and his features were pinched and wary. Though he appeared no older than Malone, his black hair was liberally striped with gray. Marguerite thought abstractedly that he might have been handsome, once. But his limbs were too spare of flesh, his features were not quite right, and there was an air about him that was wrong. She saw that Veronica was feeling it as well.

"Kirdon," Sirdo whispered. Terror was evident in his voice. Roxton saw that his features were tight with it also. Apparently, in spite of his obvious devotion to Kayle and his emissary Kirdon, Sirdo was also very afraid of the man. Roxton sighed. He was a man of his word, after all. He took a step and partially blocked Sirdo from Kirdon's sight.

Kirdon stopped and stared at Sirdo. "Kayle informed me that you had failed in your mission, Sirdo. He will exact payment."

"No, Kirdon, I beg of you!" Sirdo cried. He raised his hands and stared up at the sky. "Great Kayle, forgive me my mistake! I tried my best to carry out your commands!"

Kirdon sneered, his upper lip curling slightly. "Our god cares only that you failed, Sirdo. Just one simple little task, and you failed. He sent me to set things right."

With that, Kirdon raised his hands. There was a faint glow emanating from them, and he pointed them in Sirdo's direction, closing his eyes and muttering unintelligible words. He suddenly clenched his fists, and Sirdo grabbed his throat, gagging as his air was cut off. Roxton's eyes widened, and he started towards Kirdon. The man opened his eyes, and the solid black depths were filled with an unearthly glow. Marguerite stood up as well and went to stand next to Roxton.

"Stop," Marguerite called out. "You have no right!" She and Roxton took a step towards Kirdon. With a wave of one hand, a force shoved at Roxton and Marguerite, and they were flung back, falling heavily. Roxton did his best to cushion his wife, and he cried out as the impact and angle of landing snapped his wrist. The crack was audible to everyone present. Kirdon turned back to Sirdo, who was gasping from the brief reprieve, and placed his closed fists one on top of the other. He twisted, and Sirdo slumped down, his broken neck turned at the wrong angle.

Anna was watching with horror, but underneath that emotion a darker one was stirring. Anger was rising in her, roiling hot anger. It curled in her stomach and spread white-hot flames of rage through her limbs. She saw Kirdon walk to where her parents lay, until he stood looming over Roxton.

"I have every right," he informed Marguerite silkily. She stared up at him with hatred, her hand resting protectively over the child in her womb. "I am my god's voice and his hand. I do as he wills." He spread out his hands again, the pale glow turning a sickly green and lighting his maddened features. "Now I must destroy the hunter, and your offspring as well, Chosen One." He opened his mouth to speak, but the words never came.

When Kirdon spread out his hands, Anna's anger coalesced into righteous fury. Power such as she had never felt spread all through her body. The force of it energized every cell in her being, changing her for the moment into something beyond herself. The ugly wound on her back closed over into thin pink line. Her clothes changed into flowing pale blue robes, and her long hair loosened from its braid and streamed over her shoulders and down her back. Her green eyes glowed with an emerald light. She stood up, throwing the blanket off herself. Light emanated from her, outlining every inch of skin and every strand of hair in a bright glow.

"Do not dare to touch them!" a voice called out, the bell-like tones vibrating through every person present. They gasped as they turned to see the apparition walking towards them. The bright light was nearly blinding, and Roxton could barely make out the form within. He gaped as he recognized Anna. But this was not the daughter he knew. This was something more. He was reminded of the time Marguerite had saved the Druids by finding their emeralds, but she had not been like this. He watched in dumbfounded amazement as Anna approached Kirdon.

She stopped in front of him, her blazing green eyes trained on his. He gazed at her in wonder, but the glow from his hands and eyes did not abate.

"Leave them be," Anna hissed. Roxton suddenly understood, to his astonishment, that he could understand Anna, and so could Kirdon. Somehow, his daughter was communicating in two languages at once.

"You have no place here," Kirdon spat out, his hands curling into claws. "I claim these for my god!" With that, he sprang at Anna.

Veronica and Challenger hurried over to Marguerite and Roxton. Veronica supported Marguerite, and Challenger did the same with Roxton. Marguerite turned and watched as the glowing figure neatly deflected every blow Kirdon aimed at her. Kirdon howled as searing flames touched his skin when he came too close to his opponent. The light and the figure's flowing hair obscured Marguerite's view of her face, but Marguerite had a strange feeling of familiarity as she watched the two opponents fight. The green glow had spread to cover Kirdon's body. The explorers sat huddled together as they saw a battle between what they knew must be light against the power of darkness.

Finally they stopped, Kirdon pulling several steps away from the other. He panted, his skin blistered in places from the woman's fiery light, blood dotting his face and body. She stared at him, her glow as bright as before. Kirdon spread his hands and threw his head back.

"My god will have what he desires!" he cried. The glow around him started to increase. Anna recognized what he was doing. He was completely opening himself up to the power of his god. Kayle might not be quite ready to come into the world, but apparently he could fill his vessel with his power. The strange power that filled Anna whispered to her what she needed to do. She nodded and reached down to gather all of her strength.

"No," she said. The word was quiet, but as it passed her lips, a hush fell over the clearing. The explorers watched in awe as the light around the woman increased until they could not look at her. It was like looking into the sun. Their eyes watered, and they raised their hands to shield their faces. Only Roxton was able to keep his eyes open a crack to see what came next.

Anna, too, spread out her arms. Power raced along her body in tingling lines. She called on her innate self and to nature, and filled herself to bursting. She saw Kirdon drop his head and look at her with the first indication of fear. She locked her eyes on his and felt the power of her gaze sear away his sight.

"No," she said again, over Kirdon's wail of pain. She suddenly released the power she held, and it spread out from her in a blinding sphere of light. It passed through the explorers without harming a hair on their heads, but the power of it knocked them unconscious. The last thing that Roxton saw was the light heading for Kirdon. When it touched Kirdon, the reaction was mightily different than for the explorers.

Kirdon was briefly enveloped in the light, and his screams were high and shrill. For a few moments he writhed in his prison of light, his face contorted in pain as he cried to his god, then he was obliterated. Only a few fragments of dust remained of Kayle's would-be entrance to the world. The light also removed all traces of Sirdo.

Anna dropped to her knees, breathing heavily. She was bone-deep weary. The power had demanded much of her body. She watched as the light slowly bled out of her skin, leaving behind trembling limbs and clothing her again in her original garments. She arched her back in wonder. The healed skin didn't even pull. She looked over at her father. His broken wrist was already swelling. With great effort, Anna pulled herself up and went over to him.

She touched his face, and he woke with a start.

"Anna?" he said in confusion, looking all around him. "Are you all right? What happened to them?"

She bit her lip. "I'm fine. I healed myself. They're gone, Daddy. I destroyed them. I'm sorry, I had no choice."

Roxton shook his head as he used his good hand to push himself to a sitting position. "I know, Anna, and it's all right. They were evil men. You did what you had to do." He smiled at her in wonder. "I never imagined you would be able to do something like that."

She sighed. "Neither did I. I never thought I could." She looked down at his wrist, then back up to his face. "Daddy, the power's almost gone, but there's one thing I can do with it." She carefully lifted his wrist and held it between her hands. Roxton gritted his teeth as the broken ends of bone shifted against each other.

He felt a sudden warmth, and looked down to see a soft light surrounding his wrist and Anna's hands. The light swirled around his wrist for several moments and then faded. He lifted his wrist in shock.

It was completely healed. The bones had fused together and the swollen skin was back to normal. He gingerly rotated his wrist and was rewarded with easy movement without a trace of pain. He looked at Anna in awe.

"Anna," he breathed. She smiled at him.

"That was the last of it, Daddy. There's nothing left of it in me anymore. Are you well now?"

"I'm well, sweetheart, thank you."

She glanced around to notice that the rest of the explorers were starting to stir. Roxton noticed as well, and he indicated Marguerite with a nod of his head.

"Is she-"

"She'll be fine, and the baby too," Anna said. "I feel it." She took in a deep breath. "Daddy, I need to go back. Very soon. The cave I used is close by. Uncle George said that I couldn't stay too long here, or the shifting realities might not let me go back. I don't have the equipment there in this time that I used to come here. It's up to me, and I don't know how much longer I'll have the strength to create a portal back."

Roxton nodded. "I'll go with you. Go wait by the trees, and I'll let the rest know."

He stood up and helped Anna stand, and she walked to the edge of the jungle and waited. Roxton turned and crouched down to gently caress Marguerite's cheek.

"Come on, love, wake up," he said. "Naptime is over."

She drew in a sharp breath as her eyes flew open.

"John?"

He smiled as he helped her sit up. "I'm all right, Marguerite."

"What happened to Kirdon? And what about your wrist?"

"Kirdon was destroyed, and my wrist was healed, as was Anjes' injury. Listen, Marguerite, will you and Veronica and Challenger be all right for a little while? I want to take Anjes back."

Marguerite looked over to see the girl again hiding in the jungle.

"Was it her, John? She did that? She destroyed Kirdon and healed herself?"

Roxton nodded. "Yes, it was Anjes. She healed me as well. We owe her our lives, Marguerite."

Marguerite tried to peer through the shadows of the jungle. "Do I know her, John? I have the feeling that she's familiar, somehow."

Roxton looked over at Anna. He grinned. "No, Marguerite, you don't know that young woman over there, but she knows you. She risked her life for you, for all of us. I need to see her on her way back."

Marguerite reached over and hugged Roxton. "I understand, John. Go. We'll be just fine. We'll break camp and be ready when you come back."

Roxton kissed her, savoring the feel of her mouth under his. She kissed him back and twined one arm around his neck. He pulled away reluctantly, but couldn't help dropping a gentle kiss on the end of her nose just before he stood up.

Marguerite sighed as she watched him join Anjes, and the two walked off into the jungle. She was beyond grateful for the help of the young woman, and wondered if she would ever know why Anjes had risked herself to save them. Marguerite knew that she would silently thank the girl every day from now on. She laid a hand on her belly and smiled.

"Well, little one, let's go see to your Aunt Veronica and your Uncle George, and then we will all wait together for your father." With a lighter heart, Marguerite turned to her friends.

Roxton and Anna walked silently through the jungle. Anna had found her hat not too far into the jungle, and she was ceaselessly turning it over in her hands as she walked. Her thoughts were completely jumbled in her head, and she couldn't think of what to say. From the look of him, Roxton was having the same problem. Anna couldn't believe that her time with her father was almost over. She found herself nearly dreading reaching the cave.

However, less than half an hour later they were standing in front of the cave entrance. They looked in quickly to make sure that no animal was resting inside. They stepped back out, and Anna checked to make sure she had everything with her.

"You have everything, Anna?" Roxton asked. She nodded. "Then I suppose you're ready to go home."

She looked at him with some uncertainty. Sensing her hesitation, he cocked his head.

"Don't you want to go back, Anna?"

She bit her lip.

"I do, of course I do, it's just that…you're alive here, and…I've changed things. I don't know what will happen tomorrow."

He smiled briefly and reached out to grip her shoulder firmly.

"Neither do we," he said, looking at her intently. "We just live each day and try our best to make it through. But I know what's at stake, my darling girl. I will be careful, I promise."

She stepped closer to him and his strong arms engulfed her slender form in a tight, reassuring hug. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent so uniquely Roxton, so undeniably _Daddy_, and willed herself not to cry. She pulled back and attempted a smile.

"I have missed you, Daddy," she whispered. "I am so glad that I was able to see you here. Please stay safe. I couldn't bear to lose you again."

He touched her cheek. "I know, Anna. I don't want to put you through that either. Just remember that no matter what happens, I love you, and I always will."

She tried to smile with trembling lips. Quickly, before her resolve failed her, she placed her hat on her head and stepped into the cave. She concentrated again on creating a portal. She could feel the sweat beading on her face. Finally, a ragged swirl of light appeared. She saw the inside of the cave through it, but this cave was littered with equipment, just like the one she had left, not the clean cave she was presently standing in. She breathed in deeply, and just before she stepped through, she turned her head back.

"Goodbye for now, Daddy," she said softly. "I pray I'll be seeing you shortly."

She stepped into the light.

After several minutes, Roxton poked his head into the cave. If it hadn't worked, then he would take Anna back to the treehouse, and they could try to figure out how to send her home. He found himself almost hoping that she hadn't made it through. He would be proud to introduce Marguerite to their grown-up daughter.

The cave was empty. He looked in every corner to make sure, but he knew in his heart that Anna was gone.

"Goodbye, Anna. I'll be seeing you."

_Almost there! Just the epilogue to go. Will Anna make it back? And will Roxton still be alive? What changes are present? All these answers and more await you in the epilogue! Oh, and PLEASE, READ and REVIEW! Hit that little button down there. Sure, I knew you could. _


	7. Part VII

Anna pushed hard against the barrier of the light. For an instant, she was terribly afraid that she would not be able to make it through, that she would be stuck in the past. Then, with one last heave, she was through. She was unprepared for the sudden give, and stumbled into the cave wall. She looked around her, panting. Well, she was in the cave. It remained to be seen just _when_ she was. She pushed herself off the wall and walked on somewhat shaky legs over to the cave entrance.

She squinted in the bright light of morning. It had been morning when she said goodbye to the Roxton of the past. It might mean that she was back, or not. She bit her lip.

A noise to her right startled Anna. She turned her head and waited, hardly aware that she was holding her breath. She had saved her father and destroyed one of Kayle's conduits into the real world. The repercussions that could have…

With the sight of Challenger, Anna let out her breath in a great rush of air. This was not the Challenger of the past. This was _her_ Uncle George! She smiled at him, and he shook his head, exactly as he did when he was exasperated with her. She frowned, but her brow abruptly cleared when she saw the next person. Marguerite! Anna smiled and took a step away from the cave entrance.

Marguerite, her heart pounding, saw her daughter standing in front of her. She let out a breath that was perilously close to a sob. She pulled Anna to her in a desperate hug, knocking Anna's hat off her head in the process.

"Anna!" she said, holding her daughter tightly. She pulled back and looked into Anna's face. The girl was shocked to see tears standing in Marguerite's eyes.

"Mother?" she said in confusion. She looked at Challenger, as well as Veronica and Malone, who had joined them and were holding Arthur's and Abigail's hands. All of them wore expressions of varying degrees of worry and relief. But there was no Roxton. She swallowed and turned her gaze back to Marguerite.

"Mother, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Marguerite almost barked. She took a deep breath and fought to bring herself under control. "What's wrong is that yesterday morning, we were all in the treehouse, and suddenly there was a flash of light surrounding you. It disappeared, and took you with it! Do you have any idea how much I was frightened, even after what had happened was explained to us!"

Anna blinked. That had not happened, but...her mouth dropped open slightly She had changed the past. Everything was different now. She gazed at her mother.

"I went back," she began. "I went back and changed things. But Mother, I had to! I had to-"

"We know, child," Challenger interrupted. "It just scared your mother, seeing you vanish like that."

"You…know?" Anna asked, confused.

"You went back to save your father," Marguerite said gently. "And you did. I _am_ grateful, my darling, more than you could know, but I didn't know what you had done when you disappeared. All I knew was that my daughter was gone, with no warning. It took a long time to calm me down."

Challenger smiled. "And in the end, even with your father's explanation, your mother was still scared and furious. We didn't know if you would be able to come back, you see."

"My father's explanation?"

"Your father's explanation," a new voice interrupted. Anna caught her breath, and slowly, almost not daring to believe her own ears, she turned. Outlined in early morning sunshine, Roxton was making his way towards her. Anna could see that he was older; there were a few more lines on his face, and the hair at his temples contained strands of silver, but it was most definitely Roxton. Her eyes quickly filled with tears as she stood watching him, completely unable to move.

He stopped in front of her. "Hello, sweetheart," he said.

Anna stared up at him, taking in this most precious sight. She reached her hand out to him.

"Daddy?" she whispered. She touched him, and he was real and warm and alive. The tears spilled over onto her flushed cheeks.

"Daddy!"

Her knees gave way and she fell, but before she could hit the ground, Roxton caught her. He knelt on the ground cradling his daughter as she sobbed into his chest.

"Shh, love, shh," he said, as he rocked her and stroked her hair. "Hush now, Anna, it's all right. I'm here, and I'm well. We have you to thank for that. You saved me, sweetheart, you saved us all. It worked, my sweet girl, you changed the future for us."

Anna looked up at him, savoring the familiar and yet new features. "I was so frightened, Daddy," she said softly. "I might have saved you only to lose you later, or to cause someone else to die. I just missed you so much."

"I know, Anna," he said. He smiled at her. "I promised not to tell, and I didn't, not until you disappeared. Then I told everyone, or I fear that your mother would have caused something very bad to happen." He looked over at Marguerite, and she rolled her eyes even as she smiled back at him. Roxton turned back to Anna.

"I knew where you'd come back, if you were able to," he said. "I also thought that you might come back not that day, but the next, exactly the amount of time you were in the past." He kissed her cheek and gently wiped away the remaining tears.

Anna looked at him in consternation. "I don't remember disappearing, Daddy, or you being alive. I'm not the same Anna that has been living here."

Roxton glanced at Challenger and then Marguerite, before looking back at Anna.

"We thought of that, Anna. Your Uncle George believes that since you were the one that orchestrated the change, you had to be the one who would come back. The Anna that disappeared two days earlier had no knowledge of what happened, and what you did. He thinks that you have to be here to keep the change stable, not the other Anna."

Challenger nodded and smiled at Anna. She thought about his theory. It made sense. The Plateau needed her because she knew what it was not to have Roxton there. She knew what it was to miss him, and she knew what it was like to live every day with the pain, grief, sorrow, anger, and loneliness. She was uniquely suited to appreciate her father being alive.

She turned to look at her mother.

"But your Anna…" her voice trailed off, but she took a deep breath and continued. "You had a life with your Anna. You had memories with her, and she with you. I…don't have those. I'm so sorry." She bowed her head and looked down at her hands as her fingers twisted nervously in her lap.

Roxton put a finger under her chin and gently raised her eyes to meet his. The hazel eyes so like his own stared back at him, worry clearly evident in their depths. He smiled gently.

"Do you think Challenger is an intelligent man, Anna?" At her confused and hesitant nod, he continued. "He thinks that the Anna who was here is still around us and that in time you will have her memories. She will be a part of you, and you will have the chance to be with both your mother and I again. You will know what it was to have lived with both of your parents, yet still remember life without the changes. That is the Plateau's gift to you."

She stared at him in surprise, and then turned her head to look at Challenger. He nodded his head and gave Anna a small smile. She turned back to Roxton and gazed searchingly at him. Hesitatingly she spoke.

"Then….do you want…me? Not _your_ Anna?" She included Marguerite in her half-panicked, half-hopeful gaze.

Marguerite glanced at Roxton, and he raised one eyebrow at his wife. She shook her head in bemusement and came closer, dropping to her knees in front of her daughter. She took Anna's shoulders in her hands, noting the tension in the girl's slender body.

"Sweetheart," she said, gently smoothing a lock of hair behind Anna's ear, "you ARE our Anna. You are my child and your father's child in every way that matters. You were willing to try something incredibly dangerous to save our family, and willing to accept the consequences of your actions. That makes you no different from, as you say, 'our' Anna. Your father explained that we might be getting a slightly, different, Anna. But when he told me what you did for us, I knew that no matter who returned, I _was_ getting my daughter back." She smiled and cupped Anna's face. "And I was right, sweet girl, I was right. Who else but my brave daughter would, when given the chance to be with a father she hadn't seen in ten years, worry more about her parents' well-being than her own happiness?"

For a long, silent moment, Anna pondered. Marguerite kept her eyes fixed on her daughter, willing her to believe, letting her love for Anna shine through her eyes. Finally, with a small sigh and a shudder, Anna leaned into her mother. Marguerite gathered her closely and rested her cheek against Anna's silky curls. She looked at her husband and he reached out to twine his fingers with hers. They smiled at each other over their daughter's head.

Behind them, Challenger cleared his throat. Loathe as he was to interrupt the lovely tableau in front of him, there was still one more important thing for Anna to learn. When she turned her head to look at him, he smiled and crouched down to gently wipe the tears away from her cheeks.

"I want you to know something, dear child," he said. She cocked her head and curved her lips upward at the gentle endearment that he'd often used with her as a child. Challenger then looked to Marguerite and Roxton, and when they nodded, he reached out to take Anna's hands in his own. He helped her stand and then placed his hands on her shoulders.

"You did a wonderful thing for your parents and for this whole family. You are without a doubt one of the bravest people I know, and most definitely a true Roxton." She let out a small chuckle at his words. He leaned in a little and whispered, "And you should know who else appreciates your decision."

He then turned Anna to face the direction that Roxton had come from, and gave a little whistle. Assai and Jarl appeared over the rise, along with their son Mocobi. But in addition to the family that Anna knew well, another figure also appeared. He looked to be a boy a year or two younger than Arthur, with short dark hair, wearing a rumpled green shirt and trousers. Anna's brow furrowed. He did not resemble Assai or Jarl, and he was wearing clothes like the explorers, but Malone and Veronica could not have produced this dark-haired child! She gazed at him for a long moment, and he gazed back, holding her eyes with his own. She noticed that his eyes greatly resembled her mother's. At that moment, the truth suddenly struck her. She'd forgotten, in the excitement of seeing her father again, just exactly what else she had saved when she'd gone back. She looked back at her parents with awe in her face.

Smiling, Marguerite and Roxton stepped forward. They beckoned to the boy, and he approached them with no small amount of trepidation, but also with a smile on his face. He stopped by Marguerite, and she reached out to place a hand on his shoulder.

"Anna, this is someone I very much want you to meet. Anna Roxton, meet William Edward Roxton…your brother. Will, this is the Anna we told you about yesterday, the Anna that saved you before you were even born." Marguerite smiled at her son, and he looked at Anna with some nervousness, but mostly joy, in his face.

"Hello, Anna," he said, happiness evident in his tone. "It's very nice to meet you."

Anna dropped to her knees in front of the boy. He resembled their father as much as Anna resembled Marguerite, except for the silvery green eyes he'd inherited from his mother.

"Hi, Will," she said softly. "It's wonderful to meet you. I'm sorry I'm not the Anna you remember."

He held up his hand in an oddly mature gesture that almost made Anna laugh, and she couldn't help smiling at the serious expression on his round face. He then placed his hand on her shoulder.

"But you are," he said, his eyes searching her face. "You said my name just exactly like Anna does, and you're brave just like her, and Mummy and Daddy love you just like they love her. You're my sister. Don't you want to be my sister?" He suddenly looked a little worried. Anna laughed.

"Of course I do," she replied. At that she pulled him into a hug. His little arms wrapped tightly around her neck, and tears filled her eyes at his easy acceptance. She'd never realized what a wonderful thing she'd been missing. She closed her eyes and held her brother closely. Finally, she let him go and stood up, smiling at him. He grinned back and picked up Anna's discarded hat before reaching over to take his mother's hand.

Anna saw that Malone and Veronica were there, and she was pulled into a hug with them as well as Arthur and Abigail. They repeated her parents' comments that it was good to have her there. She laughed suddenly, as her joy spilled out of her, and disentangled herself. She walked over to her father, and he reached out to stroke her hair.

"Ready to go home?" he asked.

Anna pondered for a moment. It would not be an easy road, adjusting to a new life and the new memories that Challenger believed she would be getting. It would be strange to see her father and brother every day, wonderful, but strange. She was sure that in the time to come she would make her share of mistakes about the life she was heading into, but oh, it would be worth it. So absolutely worth it. She looked up at Roxton, and graced him with a joyful and beautiful smile. She slipped her hand into his.

"Yes, Daddy, let's go home. Let's all of us go home."

Roxton pressed a gentle kiss to his daughter's hair, and signaling to Marguerite, he started back to the treehouse. Father and daughter led the way, each of them finally able to bring the other one home.

**Every night I fall asleep and this is all I ever dream.**

The End

I want to thank everyone who stuck with this story and kept reading it in spite of the lengthy delays, and who encouraged me to write something beyond that one shot I had been aiming for. I hope you enjoyed it. I know I did.


End file.
